


No Good Deed (goes unpunished)

by merryfortune



Series: Vrains Event Week Fills [3]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS
Genre: Amputation Kink, Anal Sex, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Cunnilingus, Deepthroating, Double Penetration, Dubiously consensual voyeurism, Fingering, Flogging, Hate Sex, Interspecies Sex, M/M, Making Out, Masturbation, Other, Power Play, Praise Kink, Rimming, Sex Toys, Sexual Fantasy, Slight Foot Fetish, Tentacle Sex, Unethical Dom, Whipping, sexualised violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-04-23 07:53:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19146724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merryfortune/pseuds/merryfortune
Summary: Entries for /Ryoken inspired by the following prompts:Day 1:Yearning/ReleaseDay 2: Desperation /TrustDay 3: Boundaries /DestructionDay 4: Protection /Letting goDay 5: Silk ties /CommunicationDay 6:Since when?/ What you aren't sayingDay 7: I don't know /HelplessDay 8:Punishment/ Out of your depthBe sure to check the author's notes of each chapter for specific warnings and tags.





	1. Yearning & Release

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Ship:** Spectre/Ryoken  
>  **Tags:** Blowjobs, Deep Throating, Double Penetration, Sex Toys, Slight Degradation, Praise Kink

   Spectre gazed deeply and thoughtfully into Ryoken’s eyes with a vicious expression. Ryoken keened beneath him as Spectre’s fingers ghosted over his face, down his cheeks, with a curl of a caress. His fingertips cold on Ryoken’s burning hot cheeks, increasingly reddening as his body came to accept what was beneath him.

   “You are doing so well, Sir.” Spectre praised him a drawl which was poisonous.

   But Ryoken adored it. He adored how Spectre’s voice, a touch gravelly, echoed in his head as he continued to feel the toy sink further and further into him. Spectre had done such a good job of preparing him and his body was fervently hot and bothered at Spectre’s gentle, yet unabashed, exploration of his anus with his fingers, dripping with cold lube and encased within a condom, in order to prepare him for their games.

   Ryoken huffed excitedly. He wanted to be praised more and more, to show off his prowess as the toy sank deeper still inside of him. Ryoken could feel every nub and ridge and vein of the thing and he couldn’t get enough of it as it pierced his insides. The modestly protruding tip and the way it was designed, all for the fantasy of the impossible, of the draconic.

   The toy – the dragon cock dildo – had been expensive but it was worth every cent. Customised for Ryoken’s voracity when it came to such a thing; something which amused Spectre, but something he was willing to indulge for his master’s sake, especially considering how his master was so lenient with what Spectre wanted. So really, it was a treat that was a long time coming.

   “How does it feel, Ryoken-sama?” Spectre asked.

   He noticed that Ryoken was quivering as he was accepting the fake phallus inside of him. He could feel every ridge and plastic vein on the toy. It was so good. Gradually coming closer and closer unto the back of his legs as he knelt before Spectre.

   “G-Good.” Ryoken’s voice was crackly, excited, and accompanied by wide blue eyes which gleamed with yearning and adoration for their experimentation.

   “That is wonderful to hear, sir. Now, be a good boy,” Spectre continued with both a soft voice and expression, “fellate me.”

   “Of course.” Ryoken replied, far too eager and excited, his lips smacking together as he dripped with sweat and a chill went down his spine.

   Spectre smiled a stroke-like smile. “Excellent.”

   So, slowly, Spectre aligned his thin, pert cock with Ryoken’s begging mouth. Ryoken accepted it with messy aim. Spectre amused by just how enthusiastic his partner was as his cock slipped past Ryoken’s thin, parted lips and sealed around his cockhead. His tongue flicking over the slit and the rest of his mouth trying to go further.

   Ryoken closed his eyes to Spectre as he tasted the salt of his genitals. Spectre watched, bemused, by the expressions that Ryoken was trying to control. It was evident that he reviled the taste, but he didn’t want to show it. His consideration was adorably earnest and that pleased Spectre, so he gave a thrust.

   Ryoken moaned as he felt Spectre’s cock move slightly inside his mouth. As he felt the impact, however airy, upon his face. He ravished Spectre to the best of his ability with his mouth. Tonguing along his slit and licking up and around his cockhead. All duties – all free actions – that he was over-eager to fulfil. His own cock a testament to such honest and visceral emotions. It was all but bursting as it oozed precum. It was utterly erect between his legs as he continued to enjoy having the dildo inside of him – and of course his darling Spectre’s cock, too.

   “Just a little bit more, Sir…” Spectre murmured, lovingly. “Just a little bit more…”

   Ryoken huffed enthusiastically over Spectre’s cock. Forcing it further into his mouth, until the cockhead brushed against the back of his throat and he tried swallowing-like motions. The taste of bile seared inside of Ryoken’s mouth, but he persevered in near euphoria regardless. Spectre purred and he ran his fingers through Ryoken’s hair.

   “Such a good boy.” Spectre praised him.

   Ryoken shivered. He was hot. Hot all over and inside, too. His cock erupted with semen. His chest ached and tightened as he bounced on the tip of the dildo, as he swallowed Spectre’s cock unabashedly. His orgasm was messy and sincere. His mess splattered over his thighs and even onto Spectre’s long legs. He looked up, longingly, at his partner whose eyes narrowed, pleased with the result. Hell, Spectre was even reinvigorated by it.

   His fingers which had snaked through Ryoken’s snowy white hair gripped on tighter. He yanked at the roots as a snarl of a grin crossed his face. He took a breathy gasp of air and released it in a low, almost maniacal cackle.

   “Mouth-fuck me harder, _Sir_.” Spectre demanded of him.

   It was a demand that Ryoken was more than happy to oblige and he revelled in the way that Spectre had called him “Sir”. It was supposed to be a badge of domination, of reverence: all unto him. Ryoken. He who was in his knees and had another man’s cock in his needy mouth. Yet this otherwise respectful title had come across as equally derogative as being called a slut or similar. And most bizarrely of all, perhaps, it was exactly what Ryoken wanted to be called. He adored that inflection.

   Thus, Ryoken continued to take upon Spectre’s cock as harshly as he could. Pressing it against the back of his throat, even when he could taste bile as well as the salt and other grotesque tangs of Spectre’s genitals. He looked up at him, pleadingly with tears – tears of perverse and depraved joy – in the corners of his eyes. All whilst breathing shallowly through his thin, tinny nose.

   Spectre thrust against his head. Further provoking Ryoken’s gallantly suppressed gag reflex. He moaned. His fingers continued to cling to clumps of Ryoken’s hair. He cooed, sighed, and moaned Ryoken’s name. His orgasm ensued thereafter with a pleasant, cooled shiver after such enticing, sexual roughness.

   He drew back slightly. As did Ryoken, but only so he could better catch it all. Spectre’s cock slid back, through saliva and through Ryoken’s demurely parted lips which still caught on his cockhead. He drank of Spectre’s fluid release. Even when it made him cough and hack with the disgusting taste causing his tongue to shrivel despite his more distracted mind, so eager to take it all. Regardless, he swallowed, and he swallowed hard. The gulp of the semen down his throat, the smack of his lips, and the look in his eyes: it was all so erotically appealing to Spectre.

   Spectre was enthralled regardless of what Ryoken did. He was beyond satisfied with Ryoken’s performance this evening. Even when Ryoken failed in his secret, but rather obvious, desire to take as much as he could in, even though some had splattered across his face. Cutely dotting him with white and, more provocatively, marking Ryoken as Spectre’s. It was delicious and it got him hard again, even as his cock, slimy with ejaculate and saliva, hung slightly flaccid between his legs. He could feel himself keen.

   “Would you like to continue, Sir?” Spectre inquired.

   “Yes, please.” Ryoken replied, his voice curling unto a moan as he enjoyed the feeling of the dildo inside of him, consistently persistent and pertinent, even though other activities had reigned over his attention more.

   “Wonderful.” Spectre purred, getting excited all over again and Ryoken too.


	2. Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Ship:** Windy/Ryoken  
>  **Tags:** Angst, Blowjobs, Fingering, Hate Sex (kind of), Interspecies Sex, Making Out, Rimming, Slight Sexual Coercion, Tentacle Sex

   The Ignis drew nearer and Ryoken stiffened. He was not particularly fond of the creatures, nor was he particularly reviling of them. Not anymore. But this one in particular, the Wind Ignis, did unsettle him. Its existence was difficult for him to swallow. It was no more a vessel of fate and actions than he but, the difference between them was attempted murder on another’s behalf and successful murder on another’s behalf.

   Still, this Ignis fluttered about like a leaf on the wind before settling on the windowpane close to wear Ryoken was sitting at his desk. He was flicking through academic journals but now, he suspected that he was going to be rather incredibly distracted. A shame as he loved the touch of paper on his skin but, others loved his attention more.

   “Did you want something, Ignis?” he asked. His voice huffy. Stoic.

   “No, nothing in particular…” it replied, evasive.

   Ryoken swallowed and stole a glance towards. It looked fairly melancholic; a dour expression across its cornflower blue eyes as the other was still scarred and hidden though a new patch donned. A far cry from the appearance that Ryoken had grown used to after his duel and near decimation of the creature. Now, it had returned to the appearance that he knew of it having as a child, still being grown and tested on. No longer was it the crazed puppet of the Light Ignis but nor was it the placid, carefree thing that it had once been in the peacetime. It was something else now. Something regretful, mournful, guilty.

   “Are you certain?” Ryoken dared to ask.

   The Ignis’s eyes turned glossy, all but wettened. “You of all people should know.”

   “I see.” Ryoken murmured. He turned the page in his book. “But I cannot know for certain if it is not voiced. However, ultimately, that is up to you.”

   “Will you even spare the kindness of listening?” the Wind Ignis asked.

   “We shall find out, won’t we?” Ryoken said, idly re-reading the top line of the new chapter again, not absorbing the words at all.

   The Wind Ignis cast a side-ways glance at Ryoken before his gaze dropped to the book.

   “Ah, ah,” it flippantly began, “you’re a cruel person to vent to.”

   “Whatever.” Ryoken replied as he turned another page.

   “Don’t you think we match though?” the Wind Ignis inquired.

   It cocked its head towards Ryoken and watched him simper at the suggestion of it. Ryoken wanted to deny it but, he couldn’t help but agree. But all he showed was his stoicism. His shoulders squared and his mouth remained a neutral line across his face. The Wind Ignis sighed.

   “What’s that human expression?” the Wind Ignis mused. “Two sides of the same… coin?”

   “Yes, that’s the correct euphemism.” Ryoken replied, wording himself carefully in the hope that he would not validate the creature.

   If the Ignis had a mouth, it likely would have twitched. Instead, all the Wind Ignis could do was sigh, make a dramatically deflated hand gesture, and then continue.

   “We are two sides of the same coin, then. Made to be puppets by the people we loved most and for that person, we became their greatest knight, their greatest sword and if that power, we hurt the ones who didn’t deserve it. And now? And now it’s too late to turn around. But I’m glad you didn’t step as far as I did in that stupor of stupidity. At least you didn’t hurt anyone as permanently as I did and put them in a premature grave.”

   “Shut up.” Ryoken said.

   The Wind Ignis twisted around. He fell over himself as gracefully as a cat, writhing around with an almost gymnastic quality before he wound up in Ryoken’s hair. He petted the crown of Ryoken’s head.

   “Aw, you don’t mean that.” the Wind Ignis said.

   “Yes, I do.” Ryoken replied, stern. “We are not the same. You are deluding yourself.”

   “Not even gonna comment on the other half, are ya?” the Wind Ignis teased.

   “It does, on some level, please me to know that you are mournful or otherwise remorseful of your actions under the Light Ignis’s influence.” Ryoken said and he could taste a bitterness in his own mouth as he spoke.

    He had seen the simulations. He had run them personally, bit by bit and had the Light Ignis had never grown spiteful and jealous, the Wind Ignis and his partner could have flourished. They could have been very good friends. Instead, all those possibilities were ashes just like the body of the tiny human who had made the Ignis and the Ignis who had unmade him.

   “Still, it’s nice to talk like this, don’t you agree?” the Wind Ignis asked and he tumbled over the front of Ryoken’s face.

   He was playful. Ryoken extraordinarily disliked that as he tried to read. Tried to ignore this creature. Instead, the Ignis landed in the crook of the book’s pages and laid there, almost posing. He looked up at Ryoken with an odd expression; difficult to discern as the creature only had one good eye. The Wind Ignis tilted his head one way and began to tug and toy with his crest.

   “Aren’t you lonely, Revolver-chan?” the Wind Ignis asked, kinking and unkinking the curl upon his head still.

   “No. I’m not.” Ryoken insisted but his insistence was brittle and the Wind Ignis knew that.

   His eye keened. “You aren’t? My, how strong of you. Stronger than me. I’m lonely. Very and dearly lonely.” The Wind Ignis’s body language grew languid and flirtatious. It sprawled out along the page, making it impossible for Ryoken to ignore it and it cutely looked up at the human. “You know, even if you’re not lonely, the least you could do is humour me.”

   “Humour you how?” Ryoken all but grunted as he tilted his book one way and then the other in the hope of somehow dislodging the Wind Ignis but the Wind Ignis remained steadfast and effortlessly so.

   “Pretend to be partners, of course. I could ride around in your Duel Disc for a bit, but if that doesn’t suit you, oh well, I can think of another chassis to ride.”

   Ryoken’s brow twinged. “Absolutely not.”

   “Really? Oh, well, I guess I’ll just fuck off, I guess.” the Wind Ignis mewled and it propped himself up, hands on its chin and all, staring – pouting, really – at Ryoken’s face. “But, are you sure? I think it could be a good lot of fun for you to let me ride your chassis.”

   “Dear God, how the hell do you go from lamenting about the death of your Origin and your guilt to trying to seduce someone?” Ryoken spat.

   “Oh, quite easily. I mean, I just did after all.” the Wind Ignis said. “Anyways, I think having a libido is a precious thing. I mean, by all accounts, it’s not necessary to my species, my survival, but I have one regardless, so I ought to cherish it and seize every opportunity which does and does not present itself. Now, do you want to fuck or not?”

   “And why would I want to do that?” Ryoken asked, hands shaking. “Hell, give me one good reason not to try and squish you right here and now with the pages of this book.”

   “Because you love me.” the Wind Ignis teased him, sing song, before lunging himself forward, propelled by a slight breeze with the echoes of a screeching bird in his wake. He clung to Ryoken’s face and nuzzled against his nose. “Please?”

   “No.” Ryoken replied as he grabbed at his face in an attempt to remove the Ignis.

   “Hm…” the Wind Ignis said as it deftly dodged Ryoken’s hands and landed back in his book.

   Ryoken frowned and he went to shut it, but the Ignis was too quick for his reflexes. And now, too big as well. The Wind Ignis lurched forward and its tiny body turned into something big. Huge. And now, Ryoken stared down at a creature larger than him yet obediently staying put on his desk, using his book as an anchor no different to how the other Ignis would use a Duel Disc.

   “What about now?” the Wind Ignis asked, its lilac eyes keened and shone.

   Ryoken swallowed as he stared into the creature’s face. The Wind Ignis was now just above his eye level and now that its eye was in the middle of his face, it seemed a lot less readable now. But the rest of its body language certainly presented communication and as its tentacles unfurled, Ryoken did not believe that the Wind Ignis was wordlessly saying anything that it was going to like.

   Ryoken swallowed and the Wind Ignis caressed his face. A bead of sweat dripped down his brow. He shivered at the Ignis’s touch. The feeling of the skin-to-skin contact was strange, nigh indescribable with only soft as the most apt description.

   “You’re turned on. I can tell.” the Wind Ignis purred.

   “Perhaps…” Ryoken admitted, uncomfortable and he shifted in his seat.

   “No one has to know. Who can I tell, after all? All my secrets are dead and burned in the wreckage of a car.” the Wind Ignis said, coaxing. “And there’s nothing wrong with just, well, simply fucking away the pain. Surely, you can see the appeal.”

   Ryoken licked his lips. The Ignis stared at him, sultry and transfixed. Ryoken took a breath. There was, perhaps, an appeal to be made after all. He wanted to be touched more. He wanted to accept the Ignis’s truth: they really were two sides of the same coin, though pride, duty, and love would never allow him to say such a thing. He exhaled curtly.

   “Very well then, Ignis.” Ryoken replied, blunt and disinterested but only in farce. “Do as you will with this chassis as it’s the only one of mine that you’ll get to touch.”

   “Whatever you say, Revolver-chan, I’ll endear you to me one way or another, don’t you worry.” the Wind Ignis murmured, playful and he slowly pushed back on Ryoken.

   His tentacles pressed up against Ryoken’s shoulders and because his desk chair was on wheels, the Wind Ignis was able to successfully put some distance between Ryoken and said desk. Now, it was able to slip in and fill the distance. Ryoken prickled at its touch but it wasn’t necessarily a bad feeling. Just a nervous one as the Wind Ignis put its mouth against Ryoken’s, expectant of a kiss and an expectation Ryoken furtively fulfilled.

   The Wind Ignis tasted of mint, Ryoken realised as he kissed him and did not kiss back. Instead, he let the Wind Ignis do as he pleased with him. The Wind Ignis opened up Ryoken’s legs with tentative pushes from the ends of hits bulbous tentacles, kiss him with an increasingly fervent pace, on which was gradually undoing from itself with a gargantuan tongue slipping forth, licking at him, slobbering on him, and trying to incite anything from him. Though, despite the seeming lack of reaction, the Wind Ignis was succeeding.

   With every stroke of its tongue or caress of its tentacles, Ryoken found himself all the more willing to submit to its coercion. He was a little tense, he was a little lonely, he did need to relax a little bit. And somehow, in the unfurling embrace of the Wind Ignis, he found the will to comply.

   The Wind Ignis looked up from his body and unto his face. There was a strange, pouting look in its sole eye. The kind of look that really should have ticked Ryoken off but instead intrigued him. Made his body a little hotter than before, or maybe it was just because the faint body heat the Ignis exuded – and it did exude some, though not a lot – had finally started to cling to his body as tangibly as its limbs.

   “C’mon, Ryo-chan, at least get me back a little bit.” the Wind Ignis whined.

   Ryoken grunted, uncomfortable as he shifted in his chair. His clothes suddenly just a little too tight and something a lot like guilt pervaded his veins.

   “Impaling you with the Anti-Ignis Bomb was more than enough to get it out of my system.” he replied.

   “You don’t want to impale me with your penis?” the Wind Ignis asked.

   “No. I do not want to do such a vulgar thing.” Ryoken replied, getting red.

   The Wind Ignis laughed at him. It was a ringing, high-pitched cacophony which grated on him kind of noise. Particularly worsened by the expression which it wore like a badge, too which was overly gleeful. Perhaps even lusting.

   “So, what do you want then?” the Wind Ignis playfully inquired, its tendrils curled along Ryoken’s limbs as its head tilted to the right by a few degrees.

   Ryoken huffed. “For you to hurry up and fuck me so it’s out of your system.”

   “With pleasure, human.” the Wind Ignis purred.

   Ryoken, with a rather disgruntled expression, helped himself out of his shirt. The Ignis’ limbs were not specialised for such fine-tuned motor skill applications. Regardless, the way its eye eagerly bulged was oddly promising as it looked over his body. Ryoken threw away his shirt and the Wind Ignis was far too quick to cling to his chest. It dragged two of its tentacles over his chest. It eagerly explored the rivets of his ribs and abdomen. Ryoken swallowed, mostly unamused, as he bore such bodily fascination against him.

   Ryoken found that he didn’t mind the tactile sensations of it, though. The Wind Ignis’ touch was soft and, for now anyway, in good nature. The Ignis all possessed silicon-like bodies which were silken to the senses and the Wind Ignis in particular had a thin skin which Ryoken found oddly pleasing to be at the handling of; even when the creature was like this. A monster; an abomination. And in some very distant part of his mind, Ryoken was well aware that if the Wind Ignis wanted revenge, now would be the time to enact it as he was severely vulnerable.

   However, he knew, from observations from yore and from present, he knew that the Wind Ignis was not that sort of creature. At least not when its eyes shone through as lilacs and lavenders, anyway. But, for now, Ryoken was more occupied by how the Wind Ignis touched him. Gently. Delicately. Curiously. It was almost sweet, but it did little to elicit more than Ryoken’s vague attention. He remained bemused by the way it studied his body as this was, likely, the first time that it had ever been in true proximity to a human.

   But such mild and mundane bemusement soon soured. His brow twinged as the Wind Ignis looked up at him; one tentacle coiled around his hips and another rather stubbornly stuck over his right breast. It slowly rolled the pad of its tentacle over his nipple repeatedly. He groaned. Mostly out of feeling disgruntled, a creeping feeling of irritation, but at least partially out of arousal too.

   The Wind Ignis whistled. “You like that do you, Ryo-chan?” he mused. Then hummed as he continued to edge over Ryoken’s chest over and over again. “Do you prefer Ryo-chan? Or Revolver-chan? Or perhaps just the ever simple and ever quintessential name of “human”?”

   “None of them.” Ryoken spat back, only to have such defiance undercut by the groan which the Wind Ignis elicited from him as he continued to massage his chest, with what seemed to be fumbling actions primed with an intuitive precision.

   “I’ll work it out one way or another.” the Wind Ignis murmured.

   Ryoken shivered at his touch and the Wind Ignis’s constriction on Ryoken tightened. The tentacle around his hips moved in closer and closer until it had almost wound around him twice. Two of the Wind Ignis’s lower tentacles moved downwards, to keep him pinned to the chair whilst its body, stringy-seeming and taut, grinded against Ryoken’s. Of its remaining tentacles, two, one found a home on its chin, rubbing along in pretence of deep thought, and the other found a home upon Ryoken’s chest to match the other. Now, regardless of whether he liked it or wanted it, Ryoken was all done up with nowhere to go.

   And that was, exactly, how the Wind Ignis wanted him.

   Ryoken struggled slightly. His arms grazing up against the firm embrace that the Wind Ignis all but suffocated him inside. The creature chuckled murmuringly before giving his face a lick – something which Ryoken conceded to. He, finally, took at least a little bit of initiative.

   He leaned in and planted a kiss on the Wind Ignis’ mouth. He kissed along its maw, licking between its jagged teeth. As a reward, the Wind Ignis sang sweetly; a moaning coo which soon turned to something more. It pushed back against Ryoken’s lips with its tongue. Ryoken opened his mouth to it and he let the Ignis penetrate upon him. Its pulsating tongue, wet and thick, mapped his mouth. It was an awkward and bulky thing yet Ryoken found his arousal peaking.

   In his crotch, he felt his erection. Further that, he felt himself leak with pre-cum which dampened his groin. Something the Wind Ignis keenly noticed but for now, pre-occupied itself with his mouth. It concentrated on just how far it could push its tongue into his mouth and the answer, the Wind Ignis discovered, was quite far. Well into Ryoken’s throat, he realised he could keep pushing down his tongue before he felt the flesh convulse and his – annoying – gag reflex found.

   Ryoken choked on the tongue, gagging and his legs giving restrained kicks before the Wind Ignis finally drew back.

   “Well I certainly enjoyed that.” it mused.

   “I can tell.” Ryoken spat, his breath was unsteady and gulping.

   The Wind Ignis glanced downwards. “You enjoyed it as well. Don’t lie.”

   “Might enjoy it more if you didn’t have me tied up like this.” Ryoken spat.

   “Oh, an interesting proposition. Would you prefer a more conventional position? Because I can do anything. I’m quite flexible, you know.” the Wind Ignis murmured.

   Ryoken sighed. “I know.” he said. He recalled the antics during their duel as well the ones he observed during its duel with Soulburner.

   “Well, is that what you would prefer or not?” the Wind Ignis inquired; his question like a jab thought.

   Ryoken exhaled sharply and pouted. He required no hesitation; not time for pause. He averted his eyes still though.

   “Yes. That is what I would prefer.” he mumbled.

   the Wind Ignis put its free tentacle to the side of its head; where an ear may have been on a more conventional creature. It made a bizarre and expectant expression to match.

   “Huh? I didn’t hear that?” taunted the Wind Ignis, squealing with glee.

   “I said: that is what I would prefer!” Ryoken barked back, now facing the creature.

   His forceful reply rasped in his throat which was raw and tender from the Wind Ignis’ exploration of it. Furthermore, thought his voice marred by such a thing, it echoed in his room which darkened as the sun outside was blotted out by a moving cloud and caused the Wind Ignis to spiral into uncontrollable laughter. It was greatly amused by Ryoken’s reply which was both compliance and defiance unto him.

   In its chuckling, so cacophonic and awful, the Wind Ignis’ grip on Ryoken’s body loosened. Its tentacles fell away and it drew back towards the book where it was anchored. Ryoken relaxed slightly and glanced over himself. As far as he could tell, the Wind Ignis had left no marks on him so, he gazed up toward it again.

   The Wind Ignis looked far too proud and exuberant with itself but at this distance, Ryoken’s arousal could not be denied. He sighed as he unbuckled his belt and promptly discarded it whilst he tore apart his zipper hastily. The Wind Ignis significantly keened as it watched the spectacle of Ryoken’s arousal became known to it. With just an ounce of shame, but more presumed coldness, Ryoken removed his cock from his underwear.

   “Huh.” the Wind Ignis mumbled to itself. “Those things look cuter on the internet.”

   “Shut up.” Ryoken snapped.

   “Shut up and…?” the Wind Ignis’ voice trailed off whilst its pale purple eye absolutely gleamed with relish.

   “Shut up and suck my dick.” Ryoken grumpily corrected himself.

   “That’s more like it.” the Wind Ignis said, nodding. “And if you keep that up, you might just get tentacle fucked like I know you want.”

   Ryoken harrumphed. He supposed that the Ignis wasn’t totally incorrect in saying that.

   So, intrigued despite initial revulsion, the Wind Ignis drew in closer once more. This time, its long and entangling body and bulbous head which coiled back tightly into a kinked curl remained between Ryoken’s legs. And for Ryoken, it opened its maw unto him. The Wind Ignis’ tongue slowly uncoiled from the depths of its jaws and was quick to messily and sloppily lick over him.

   Ryoken took a simpering breath as his cock hardened. His face reddened and he found himself trying to hide it, as futile an action that was. Nonetheless, he faced away from the Wind Ignis and hid his face behind his hand, palm exposed with his fingers slowly curling in as he found himself in reluctant adoration of how soft the Wind Ignis’ tongue was and how eagerly the creature was using it against him.

   Its movements were, admittedly, clunky and klutzily yet the pleasure that was elicited from them was something that Ryoken revelled in, nonetheless. Especially as the Wind Ignis came to feel emboldened by Ryoken’s reactions to it. Once more, it placed its tentacles upon his body and Ryoken’s skin seared beneath where they planted themselves. He swallowed a sigh as the Wind Ignis moaned onto his length, sinking further and further into Ryoken’s lap with abominable ease.

   Soon, the Wind Ignis had taken the whole of Ryoken’s cock into its mouth. His hand began to slip from against his face and something of a whine drew forth from his mouth. He gave a buck of his hips. There was a bizarrely airy feeling which followed Ryoken’s thrust. The Wind Ignis’ mouth was too deep and too hollow of a confined space for him to truly scrape against its inorganic flesh, yet he still felt the encircling of its tongue around him. He moaned as he grappled with these strange sensations and stimulations.

   “C’mon, Ryo-chan, just a little bit more.” the Wind Ignis teased of him.

   “Sh-Shut up…” Ryoken panted in testy reply.

   “Aw, please, for me, Ryo-chan?” the Wind Ignis continued.

   Ryoken’s chest ached. “Tongue fuck me better and I might.”

   “So vulgar…” the Wind Ignis rolled its eye, its tutting words reverberating inside of its mouth and along Ryoken’s cock. He shivered.

   The Wind Ignis’ tentacles began to slide across and around Ryoken’s body again. Not constricting him, but certainly getting a better hold on him. His body felt hotter as a result and he disliked that. His heart pounded and he felt the Ignis’ tongue have another go at him. Not caring for taste or precision, it merely lapped at him and raked at him with wild abandon. Yet, in such distasteful recklessness, Ryoken found pleasure.

   His body pulsed in reaction to the stimulation which was less than thorough but suitably enthused to make up for such inaccuracy and imprecision. The Wind Ignis moaned but it was an obscene and rather forced noise. It raked across Ryoken and riled him up in all the wrong ways yet became fuel for the fire inside of him regardless.

   “C’mon, Ryo-chan…” the Wind Ignis murmured. “Hurry up.”

   “The human body isn’t a toy. You don’t press it a couple times one way and get your prize.” Ryoken replied, scowling.

   “Obviously.” The Wind Ignis huffed and drew back. Ryoken could feel drool drip down his length and the air hit it; all of which caused him to suck in a tepid breath. “But you could at least try and be more compliant.”

   “I told you before, Ignis.” Ryoken said, all but spitting venom at this point, and his hands gripped onto the Wind Ignis’ head. “Mouth fuck me better and I might.” His Wind Ignis’ head melded around his fingers, creating fleshy bumps and rivets because it was so soft and ultimately malleable.

   Honestly, the way Ryoken was holding onto the Wind Ignis was giving it a headache but it incited something else besides the potential for later misery. It incited agitation and frustration which, in turn, became the basis for a renewal of lust and motivation. So, the Wind Ignis went down on Ryoken again. Its maw sealing around the base of his cock, its lips – or lack thereof as its teeth simply jutted out of its jaws in nearly plasticine clumps – brushed against Ryoken’s pale blue-purple pubic hair.

   They kept going at it like that though. Grunting and groaning. Until finally the Wind Ignis managed to elicit what it was after from Ryoken. The spectacle of human arousal; his orgasm. Ryoken came and it wasn’t quite as messy or excessive as the Wind Ignis thought – hoped – it would be but to see him so undone and vulnerable pleased the Wind Ignis nonetheless.

   Ryoken sat in his chair, turning sticky as cum ran down his cock and his legs, even dripping onto the floor. He panted. He turned a cold stare onto the Wind Ignis who seemed unfazed whereas he was ruminating with his release. The pulsation of pleasure still going through his veins even though the fluid had stopped its brief, and ultimately abrupt, eruption from his cockhead.

   “Happy?” Ryoken asked; snappish and breathy.

   “Very…” the Wind Ignis murmured with something like glee in its pale purple eye and something like a grin on its fearsome, lusting maw as well.

   Ryoken rolled his shoulders back and inhaled sharply. His head tilted back slowly as he relaxed himself in this somewhat humiliating aftermath after such work had to be put in for perceived little. Yet, he felt energised from orgasming, rather than drained. He was mutably surprised to realise that. And worse still, the Wind Ignis could immaculately detect this fact about him. It had a stunning intuition when it came to the opportunity to be cruel or callous unto others – playfully and otherwise.

   “Oh, so you do want to be tentacle fucked after all that lip service about how difficult it is to cum.” the Wind Ignis teased him.

   “I have yet to see evidence that you’ve climaxed, Ignis.” Ryoken spat back between panted breaths.

   The Wind Ignis cocked its head in a pouting way. “Oh, I am having plenty of fun.” It insisted, its tentacles criss-crossing every which way. “I just don’t do it with all the pizzazz of humans with the squirting and the gushing. It’s all so unhygienic. Really, it’s a wonder you lot as a species progressed as far as you have with such a disgusting – yet unfortunately necessary – display of mating.”

   Ryoken snickered. He supposed that he couldn’t argue with that. Disgust and lust were very closely intertwined after all. He, himself, was subject to such thin lines too.

   “But, don’t worry, we’ll go for round two, yes?” the Wind Ignis phrased it like a suggestion but Ryoken knew better.

   With weary legs, Ryoken got off his chair. His muscles felt strained even though he had been doing anything at all. But given that the Wind Ignis was still talking, its jaw couldn’t be that tired, so he tried to keep his own quibbles to himself.

   “Very well. We’ll do it on the bed then.” Ryoken said and he let his trousers drop to his ankles.

   He stepped out of them and he felt the Wind Ignis’ eye crawl along his legs. It was strange to be so sensually eyed and made the undeniable object of lust. Ryoken shivered and that shiver then in turn became a scowl. He huffed.

   “Hurry up then.” Ryoken said and he retired to his bed, kicking away his pants. “Take me then, like the brute you truly are, like I know your species truly are like.”

   “You certainly know how to make an Ignis feel special, huh, Ryo-chan?” the Wind Ignis teased him whilst Ryoken lifted his legs onto the bed.

   “Yeah, well, you know how to make a man feel special too; I’m just your last choice rebound when it comes to partnerships.” Ryoken replied with a snarl in his voice.

   “Ouch. But true, no point dishing it out if I can’t take it.” the Wind Ignis mused and it hovered closer to Ryoken, its tail stretching out thin and opaque across the distance between Ryoken’s desk and his bed. “And speaking of taking it,” it licked its jowls, “how do you wanna take it?”

   “Up the ass, obviously.” Ryoken retorted.

    On his belly, he reached over for his bedside table. His hand grabbed the handle of the second drawer down and the Wind Ignis heard plenty of rattling around in said drawer. Ryoken then produced a bottle of lubricant which the Wind Ignis hummed over. Ryoken drew back and sighed. He stared at the ceiling and in curt thought, wondered how he had gotten to this point in his life before sighing. Before beckoning the Wind Ignis closer and the Wind Ignis, of course, all too eager to be involved.

   Ryoken took a whistling breath through his nose as he arched around. The Wind Ignis hovered; a stubborn admittance that this was not a task that it was capable of with how fat and broad its tentacles’ pads ended it despite branching off such tapering, willowy limbs. Ryoken squirted lubricant over his fingers and fingered himself. The Wind Ignis watched with more interest than either of them expected.

   Ryoken’s face reddened. His exhausted breaths quickened and often snipped at the bud as his fingers plunged into his ass, loosening himself out. The Wind Ignis’ head bobbed up and down, watching the droplets of lubricant roll down his thighs as well as with keen interest in just how Ryoken’s fingers passed his own thresholds.

   “You do this to yourself often or something?” the Wind Ignis asked.

   Ryoken growled in frustration only to cut himself short when he had passed too deep into himself and felt a bolt of pleasure spread through him from his epicentre outwards. A moan dribbled out of his mouth no different to drool despite his better, more ashamed attempts to keep it contains. The Wind Ignis laughed when it heard the strangled noise that Ryoken had made.

   “No.” Ryoken finally spat back upon recovering, or failing to recover, from his miscalculation.

   “Sure, sure.” the Wind Ignis said. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t believe in bodily secrets. Once you’ve had all your doodads rearranged and rewired by another, makes it a bit difficult.”

   “Yes, yes, I know,” Ryoken seethed, “woe is you.”

   “Woe is us both.” the Wind Ignis teased.

   Ryoken grunted as he continued to finger himself. This time, without any input from the Wind Ignis. Though, he could still feel its eye absolutely fix itself to his hand, to his body. The sensation of knowing – all but feeling the Wind Ignis’ lewd breath on him – this obsession made his skin crawl and sweat. He huffed to himself.

   “Quit staring.” he muttered.

   “And help…?” the Wind Ignis replied hopefully.

   “If that’s what suits you-” Ryoken replied but was quickly shut up when he felt the Wind Ignis pounce on him.

   Its tongue plunged through his rim and he made an unseemly squeak of surprise. The Ignis laughed and such a tepid noise rang through the whole of his body as they remained so closely connected. Ryoken panted as he felt the tongue writhe inside of him. He thought that he had gotten used to its silicon softness and its dexterity, but it was of a completely different feeling and level when applied to him like this.

   With humiliated acceptance, Ryoken moaned. Behind him, he felt the Wind Ignis coo. His libidinous noise excited the creature and now it was all but assaulting him. A strange glee to its movements as it explored this part of his body. Its tongue drawing back and licking the undersides of his cheeks and even the back of his testicles as he instinctively arched his back to let the creature at him more and more. He shivered and sighed; greatly pleasing the Wind Ignis.

   The Wind Ignis adored humans. Well, maybe just this human. It wasn’t overly well versed with the other humans, but it had a certain fondness for this one. After all, Ryoken had gone toe-to-toe with it during their Duel and given that it had offed its Origin, whom he was neither here nor there with retrospectively. So, it didn’t really have all that many options – unlike the damned Water Ignis which had procured to human girls for its leisure. Still, the Wind Ignis liked this human. Especially now that it had Ryoken exactly where it wanted.

   Its tentacles snaked around Ryoken’s ankles. It gave a pull on them and Ryoken barked some instruction at it going against what the Wind Ignis desired, so he paid it no heed. It was only a joke after all and kept inching further. Its tongue delved into Ryoken’s quivering body further and the tip bullied his prostate. He moaned once more, face reddening as his throat turned raw with pleasure. That coaxed the Wind Ignis to further experiment. The two tentacles wrapped around Ryoken’s ankles tightened their coil whilst another two reached up further. It tentatively massaged his tight shoulders before drifting downwards. Rather than shackle him, the Wind Ignis merely touched, worried about overcrowding him before withdrawing.

   Ryoken panted. He could feel the lubricant that he used melt into something thinner, especially now that it had been diluted by the Wind Ignis’ saliva. It dripped down his body and pelvic regions and he felt the Wind Ignis slowly replace its tongue with something else. With one of its tentacles. So, Ryoken prepared himself. His body locked in contrary to the fact that he was trying to remain calm, but he felt most at peace when, at the very least, he could pretend to be impervious and invulnerable.

  But, alas, he was neither of those things.

  The Wind Ignis slowly penetrated Ryoken with the ball of its tentacle. Ryoken squirmed, writhed, and made exasperated grunting noises as he held onto – and wrestled – his pillow beneath him for comfort. His legs kicked and it amused the Wind Ignis who entered him further and further.

   Beneath him, Ryoken could feel his belly bulge as the Wind Ignis reached into him. It gave a pump of its tentacle and that sent shockwaves through his body. It was tight and uncomfortable and yet pleasurable all the same. It roughly toyed with him, giggling and squealing, as he panted and moaned.

   “D-Deeper…” Ryoken stuttered out despite his natural defiance begging him not to.

   The Wind Ignis flexed its tentacle inside of him. It widened and his body was forced to react. His hands balled into fists against his pillow. His brows twinged and his cock hardened. He felt some sort fluid drip through him as well the sweat on his forehead slowly slide down his slickened skin.

   “Pushy little thing aren’t you, Ryo-chan…” the Wind Ignis commented.

   “Like your one to talk.” Ryoken replied, obstinate yet any bite from his tone was lessened by how obviously aroused he was.

   The Wind Ignis tutted. Once more, its tentacle flexed inside of Ryoken. The pain fractured and turned to pleasure as his veins ran red hot inside of him.

   “C’mon,” the Wind Ignis murmured, giving a pump, “call me by my name, Ryo-chan. Even just a pet name. I’ll give you something good if you do.”

   Ryoken groaned. He resisted. He would not give this Ignis – any Ignis, really – further right to his mouth than he already had. Yet, all his insubordination did was encourage the Wind Ignis and its antics.

   Its tentacles which clung to his ankles began to wind up further. The tips of its long tentacles splayed across his thighs and slowly began to touch his cock. His sensitive flesh shivered at the even faintest touches and Ryoken vehemently disliked that. He disliked it further than the tentacles which were plating his arms began to take a firmer hold of him. And worse still, the body of the Wind Ignis grinded against him. All whilst one of its tentacles remained lodged inside of him, pumping him slowly and stimulating his prostate.

   “C’mon, just one little word.” The Wind Ignis murmured whilst it fumbled as seductively as it could with Ryoken’s cock. “One little word and I’ll bet you’ll cum right there and then.”

   It all but petted Ryoken now. Their bodies were closely intertwined. The Wind Ignis’ head beside his own, occasionally nuzzling and brushing against him. All whilst its body continued to grate and grind against his own. The whole of him felt hotter than hot. His lungs ached and his cock begged for release. His lower lip wobbled.

   Ryoken wanted desperately to rebuke the affections but he was losing feeling in his body. He could feel marks on his skin rise where he was being held. The Wind Ignis gave another flex and pump of its tentacle and no longer was there both pleasure and pain. Now there was only pleasure. His body – his ass, specifically – had become desensitised to such sensations. His heart constricted upon such a disgusting realisation and yet he found himself craving more. Harder, deeper, further: more.

   He groaned. The Wind Ignis’ synthetic skin prickled over such a noise. It nattered. It tried again, though quite shallowly. Yet Ryoken produced melodic notes regardless; garbled and protective of his pride which, really, should have been discarded long ago not unlike his shirt.

   “C’mon, Ryo-chan,” the Wind Ignis murmured, “stop denying me; stop denying yourself. Just that one little thing ya gotta do, old friend.”

   Ryoken wanted to snap back and scold the Wind Ignis for being so overly familiar but they both too far gone for that to even be vaguely applicable. So, all he could do was huff and hope that created some semblance of conceding to the creature. The Wind Ignis, however, did not take such a grumbled token from Ryoken and continued to clumsily palm over the whole of his body. Though, paying rather languid and special attention to his cock and balls. All whilst continuously thrusting back and forth into Ryoken, grappling with the centre of his pleasure.

   Something Ryoken couldn’t help but cry out in bliss over. It was beyond him, at this point. All bodily instinct. It was clouding his judgement and his pride.

   “C’mon, Ryo-chan, for me, please, just once… no one has to know.” The Wind Ignis continued to smother him with its now whispered voice.

   The Wind Ignis tried again harder, to appeal to Ryoken’s body rather than any form of his heart, soul, or mind. It pushed against him. Slowly and swiftly. Trying to stimulate the whole of him and it could feel Ryoken writhe beneath him in sublime reaction. His heart pounded faster. His lungs inflated and he could feel every thread of blood in his veins. It was pulsating and building and almost there. Just a bit more.

   The Wind Ignis flexed its tentacle whilst moving this time and Ryoken whinnied. He swallowed a breath and exhaled in desperate pants. His eyes watered.

   “For me? Ryo-chan? Revolver?” the Wind Ignis whispered.

   “Please,” Ryoken said, the simple word bursting through his lips like water from a fragmented reservoir, “W-Windy. I want to cum.”

   “Then go the fuck ahead.” the Wind Ignis hissed.

   And, Ryoken obeyed.

   He hadn’t meant to. It just happened. The Wind Ignis massaged him down and he came without thinking. He just submitted to the instruction of that lesser creature: the superior, the inheritor of humankind.

   Ryoken panted hard. The air grated against his lungs as his orgasm sent shockwaves through his body. He felt good. Great, even. And he sank into the bed. His body just giving out and the Wind Ignis plummeted in with him. He laid on his mess and his now flaccid cock, breathing in his own scent embedded into his pillow, clenching his eyes and still feeling his body wrack with the echoic movements of the Wind Ignis which was slowly drawing back and as it did so, Ryoken let one last whine out of his mouth. One which was finally unguarded and depicted him in his rawest and most vulnerable state.

   The Wind Ignis watched in utter euphoria of how the human behaved in this state, completely wrecked by the experience. It noticed how his muscles behaved beneath his tightly wrapped skin and flesh. And it noticed its own emotions as well; took stock of how it felt and ran the numbers. It wasn’t an organic creature. It couldn’t orgasm like Ryoken with the mess and the cooing, but it could certainly log numbers beyond its normal frames and right now, it felt double how it usually did when commuting as “content”.

   “Alright.” Ryoken groaned as he unwillingly dragged himself off his bed. “Get off me and get out. I’m drawing the line here.”

   “Oh, phooey. And here I am, still got some get up and go.” the Wind Ignis pouted.

   “You can go. Just elsewhere.” Ryoken replied, in his subdued but still distinctly smart-alecky tone.

   The Wind Ignis retreated but its eye keened. Glowed. Something which Ryoken found to be ominous as he studied his body for wounds. He couldn’t find any and he knew none were inflicted but he refused to believe that the Wind Ignis wouldn’t use such an opportunity to hurt him. Instead, all he felt was his gaping hole and the cum which painted his belly.

   Ryoken cast the Wind Ignis a suspicious glare when he noticed its expression. The chomping of its maw and again, the glow of its eye.

   “Is there something you want, Ignis?” Ryoken asked. “My underwear as some perverted trophy, perhaps?”

   “No, no, no, none of that.” the Wind Ignis said. “I’ve already got my trophy.”

   Ryoken cringed. He didn’t think that he wanted to know, and yet the question passed his lips regardless: “And what trophy is that?”

   “You called me Windy.” the Wind Ignis gloated yet, its victory was demure, heartfelt, utterly endeared to Ryoken and it disturbed him.

   “Only because you asked.” he panted as he reached for his bedside table. He plucked a few tissues from the box and began mopping up his mess with them to little avail.

   The Wind Ignis chuckled impishly as it reverted to its tinier, more humanoid form. Its noise becoming more and more high pitched during the shift before becoming suitably fairy-like. It smiled an Ignis smile onto Ryoken. All rounded eyes and no mouth yet just as cheerful all the same.

   “I think that is a good and perfectly wonderful omen of things to come.” the Wind Ignis chirruped. Then it laughed to itself, “Come.”

   “Oh, shut up.” Ryoken said before throwing it a look. It was floating about in his room, drifting and levitating, all too pleased with itself. “Haven’t you somewhere else to be?”

   “Hm, perhaps, home is where the rump rests, I suppose.” the Wind Ignis mused. “Unlike, say, the others… home is where the wrist rests.”

   “You may have gotten into my pants but that still doesn’t mean you’ll get into my Duel Disc.” Ryoken growled.

   “You say that now.” the Wind Ignis said. “We’ll see what you say when I make you cum a few more times.”

   “I told you. I was only humouring you today.” Ryoken said as he continued to frustrate himself with soggy tissues and an even soggier stain on his bedsheets.

   The Wind Ignis chucked its little tiny arms behind its head, resting them with its elbows up. It laughed. Not necessarily maliciously but certainly in a way which sent a shiver down Ryoken’s spine because he knew, despite his reservations, he was capable of emoting and communicating with these damnable creatures; his father’s accursed creations.

   “You say that now.” the Wind Ignis breathlessly mused once its laughter had fizzled out.

   And with that, the Wind Ignis disappeared as whimsically as it had arrived. It disappeared in a clash and clatter of blue and white sparkles: data. It returned itself from whence it had come: the Neo Cyberse World hidden within the remains of the permanently defunct Link VRAINS.

   Ryoken sighed and regardless of whether he liked it or not, his room was quiet, and he was contemplating himself and that particular Ignis, without a living Origin or other partner to reside with, and he found himself almost agreeing. After all, he had permitted the Earth Ignis to house under his roof; though, more aptly Spectre’s ceiling and he rarely crossed paths with it. Thus, Ryoken was, indeed, saying that now.


	3. Destruction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Ship:** Slight Ai/Ryoken  
>  **Tags:** Amputation Kink, Masturbation, Sexual Fantasy, Sexualised Violence

   Ryoken emerged from the Vrains with a sense of lucidity. His left arm hurt, he could still feel where the teeth had cut into his upper arm and how it felt for his arm to be bitten off and swallowed whole by the Dark Ignis. He seethed as the searing pain sprouted from his fingertips and assailed his whole arm upwards. But it soon twisted, like a knife in his chest, to a different type of blazing hot feeling.

   It was dizzying. Especially, to go from identifying pain to identifying arousal in his own body, in his own system. Ryoken glanced around, the world swaying and fraying, as he desired desperately to cool down, but he was overheating. He was enveloped in a thick, mindless heat.

   He visualised dunking himself in ice cold water, but he found it difficult to get to his feet. He was comfortable where he was, in his chair like a fortress. So, he sighed and looked to the ceiling where phosphenes scattered across the blank white of the paint. He swallowed and he felt a tightness in his pants, around his groin, and his left hand still felt hot, still felt chewed on.

   Ryoken was fine. Or so he told himself. He was fine. He was alone. He was whole. And yet all these simple little words and phrases did little to quell the erection that was trying to reassign all his focus. There had been plenty of revelations during that duel with Playmaker and yet, it was his useless and carnal desire which was gathering all his focus.

   Perhaps it was a coping mechanism. Perhaps it wasn’t. Regardless, it was a distraction and it was a distraction eating him alive not unlike that blasted Ignis which was suspended by Playmaker’s imposed captivity over it, but he doubted that it was captivity at all given what Ryoken knew of the situation.

   Ryoken clicked his tongue. The tightness in his pants was excruciating. His eyes flicked the door. No one was around; not Spectre, not his lieutenants, no one. It was just him and the all but decaying body of his father who was deep within his coma, so he barely counted as another soul.

   It was hormones, or so he told himself. A coping mechanism. Perhaps, a newly discovered paraphilia. Regardless, whatever it was, it convinced Ryoken to draw forth his length out of his pants.

   His cock was hard in his hand already as he gave a slow, sensual jerk to it. He lifted his head to the sensation, smooth yet tingling, and he closed his eyes. Darkness; not pure, jet blackness, but something close, perhaps tainted grey. Just like the synthetic skin of the Ignis.

   And with just that link, Ryoken’s eyes opened again. The phosphenes before him congregated in yellow crescent moons and purples. He saw it. He saw a pattern in it all, the Eye of the Dark Ignis. Even now, safe in his own home and safe in the real world, he was still at that damned creature’s mercy.

   He swallowed. Ryoken felt his mouth dry as he let himself moan to the Ignis’ appearance in his mind. He felt disgusted with himself, but he couldn’t help but play that scene out for himself again. His left hand felt burningly hot with how real it was when it shouldn’t have been.

   His hand was real, he had reattached it inside the Vrains – really, it never left. But in this fetish and fantasy, it seemed that it was anything but real. He wanted it not to be real. So, with his left hand, he stroked his cock and jerked himself off, but with his right hand, he closed his eyes again, and he found himself doing something odd. He fondled where the Ignis’s teeth had enclosed over his arm. He pretended that the rest of his arm didn’t exist and as he cautiously allowed himself to have such pretence in his mind, he moaned mindlessly. An unadulterated moan which was long and lewd, which left him with a satisfied flame in his belly.

   Ryoken was scared by it though. Scared by what it meant for himself, but he tried again. He fondled his arm, pretending that he was fondling a nice, clean stump or perhaps something bloody and jagged, driven through with sharp and disjoined teeth. Both fantasies appealed to him and caused many emotions to surge through his disoriented body. Ryoken moaned again and he felt his nipples harden beneath his shirt. His chest felt tight but his whole body melted into an impure satisfaction.

   So, he continued with a sort of cautiousness which was alien to him. It was challenging but he had never been challenged like this before, exploring trails of what amounted to some sort of amputation fetish, it seemed. Ryoken kept his eyes clenched close and he was haunted once more by that scene, by that eye, by that mouth. It was base.

   The fresh feeling of the Dark Ignis latching onto his arm, sinking in his teeth, was grotesque but it got Ryoken going in ways he had never imagined before. He couldn’t imagine his own terror at it, but he could imagine, viscerally, his own arousal over it in the rewriting of that abhorrent memory.

   Ryoken pumped his cock harder and groaned. Again, and again, the action of the teeth sinking and the head ripping back and the destruction which ensued. Over and over until Ryoken felt a great pressure inside of him and suddenly, it was like he had his finger on the trigger. He clamped his right hand over his forearm hard, until his nails sank into his skin through his jacket. He was hot. Blisteringly so beneath his clothes which felt so wrong on him as he came to his cusp.

   Harder and harder, his grip on both his arm and his cock became as he imagined the Dark Ignis’ teeth sinking in, further and further, through the cascade of blue and white destruction as he ate the data which otherwise would have composed the sleek, leather arm of Revolver. It was perfect and as the data shards of Ryoken’s fantasy dissipated into the gullet belonging to the Ignis, he finally came.

   His mess came in a great spurt which drained him. He let go of his arm and panted. Eyes slowly, wearily open, to what he had done. The satisfaction which was sprawling out from his heart and soul and cock was tremendous. There was semen on his pants and on his fanciful chair, but he would clean that up later. For now, he would rest his head and pant. Moan and groan and just exist in the post-orgasmic bliss that he had exposed himself to by surrendering himself to the destruction of his own arm. Only the need to refill himself with air as he was exhausted and felt light-headed.

   His eyes slid towards his arm. It was still there. Still existed in completeness and he almost detested it as he flexed his hand. He was stiff from bringing himself to pleasure, a dull ache in his wrist. But satisfied, greatly so as heat slowly was dragged out of his body through his orgasm. He was cooling down and he was distracted, but numb. In a way that he would soon be able to focus on that which was important now that this, whatever it was, had been dealt with.

   And dealt with again in future given all the monstrous joy that it had delivered again despite his better-thinking wishes.


	4. Letting Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Ship:** Spectre/Ryoken & Spectre/Earth  
>  **Tags:** Dubiously Consensual Voyeurism, Implied/Referenced Interspecies Sex, Implied/Referenced Tentacle Sex, Masturbation, Open Relationships

   Ryoken wasn’t the jealous type, or so he tried to convince himself when Spectre moaned, again, and a prickle ran down his spine. It caused his hair to stand on end and maybe a little bit of guilt to ooze out of him not unlike sweat. He wasn’t the jealous type, but as of late, a new obstacle had made itself known in his and Spectre’s relationship. That obstacle was known as Earth and Earth was very interesting to say the least.

   He and Spectre had just clicked upon meeting. Something that Ryoken had, admittedly, foreseen from miles away. He had run the simulations, after all. Ryoken had seen the dozens upon dozens of ways their relationship would succeed. And it all came back to the fact that there was a hole in Spectre’s heart and the reason for said hole was because part of his soul had been extracted during the Incident and the hole, that soul, had become its own entity. An entity known as the Earth Ignis and, more redundantly, simply as Earth. And Earth’s presence in Spectre’s life had become all consuming; he simply adored the little creature and was more than willing to atone for ten years of misled hatred.

   Hatred that Ryoken was responsible for as he was the one who had told Spectre that all Ignis, even his Ignis, were hateful things which would surely cause the demise of humanity even though it was just one Ignis and that one Ignis was most certainly not his, which is a little odd actually. After all, the Ignis which hates humanity should have belonged to the human which hated humanity but that was not how it happened at all.

   Instead, the Ignis which Spectre had produced was rather amiable with humans. He was large and awkward, instead, with a good heart. As well as a personality which complemented Spectre’s, which was a large part of why they clicked. Their interests were secured in one another and they provided each other a sort of solace and comfort which Ryoken would never understand because he hadn’t been one of the ones confined in those white rooms, tortured and fighting, or left behind at the base of a tree as an infant.

   Still, Spectre and Earth had a positive relationship – one which Ryoken was more than willing to accommodate for as he was in love with Spectre and would do anything to keep him happy. A task quite simple as, for the most part, Spectre did not want. He was content with what he had, to serve and devote but now he was beginning to shed such things because he was ‘whole’, as he put it. And, to Ryoken’s unsurprise given his relish of certain things, one of the few things that he wanted outside of Ryoken was that he wanted to have sex with his Ignis too. Something he was doing right now, to Ryoken’s discomfort and unfortunate arousal.

   Spectre wanted more than just sex, of course. He had many needs, after all. He wanted a relationship with both Ryoken and Earth: one which went beyond the platonic and even into the realms of the romantic and carnal. That was something that Ryoken was willing to give him but now, he was slightly second-guessing that because he was, perhaps, a little jealous but as he was now, still a little wounded regarding everything of the Ignis, he could not get up and prance over to Spectre’s room and ask to join. Spectre could cavort with both him and his Ignis, but as of right now, Ryoken could not.

   But, Ryoken was finding himself increasingly frustrated and in that frustration, he was beginning to get antsy. Handsy. Spectre was fucking loud. Ryoken would know. He’s been on top of and beneath the man himself but now he was wondering resentfully if Spectre was louder with him or with Earth. Worse still, it was erotic as all hell, Ryoken found.

   Ryoken bit his lip and he could hear things. Things that he couldn’t articulate in his head with perfect alignment to reality. However, based on what he could hear from inside that closed room that he had his back to, feeling the sexual vibrations on those thin walls of the boat whilst the others, the Lieutenants, were fortunately on dryland and attending to their matters there, matters such as grocery shopping and fostering a continuing alliance with the likes of Kusanagi, Bessho, Zaizen, and even Dojun. All of which was giving Spectre plenty of time to become intimate with his Ignis and his Ignis intimate with him.

   Which made Ryoken wonder, did Spectre want him to hear him or not? Had he somehow forgotten that Ryoken had remained, holed up, on the boat? That seemed highly unlikely as Spectre was very helpful and loved to micromanage him. So, what were his intentions? If he had any at all, of course.

   Ryoken was too shy to ask, even though he was right there. Just beyond that wall. But he was a bit busy.

   After all, Ryoken could almost put it together. The exact things they were doing to each other. He could imagine Spectre beneath Earth: beneath that creature with a bulbous head, a gaping maw, and long, sprawling tentacles. Something that Ryoken lacked and something that he was more than aware that Spectre desired. Even before all that, Ryoken knew that Spectre had some sort of fixation with tentacles, something he was busting a gut to bring into the bedroom, but it wasn’t the time yet because of everything going on, the Tower and then with the Light Ignis, and then the stuff with the Dark Ignis and everything else in between.

   But now they were free men. Well, as free as wanted criminals keeping a low profile could be. And Ryoken very much wanted his hand down his pants and he was free to do so. He thinks. He still couldn’t discern Spectre’s intentions, even as he lewdly moaned again.

   It frustrated Ryoken to no end as he finally made the decision to unzip his trousers where his penis was begging for attention. He freed his cock from his underwear, and he clamped one hand over his mouth whilst the other tentatively fingered up and down his shaft, trying to get comfortable with what he was doing. It seemed wrong to do this, but Spectre was nothing if not a spectacle when it came to sex so Ryoken was assured, slightly, that Spectre may want this. May want Ryoken thinking about him like this, masturbating to him.

   Ryoken swallowed and took a whistling-like breath through his nose. His cock keened in his hand as he listened to Spectre, and Earth this time too, come undone to one another. A relaxed moan quickly followed by a plea for something harder and faster. Words which made Ryoken’s image of what was happening inside that room disintegrate, so he tried to put it back together again. As sloppy as it was as he jerked himself off.

   They were definitely on the bed. Ryoken had heard it squeaking and bouncing a couple times. Ryoken was also going to continue to assume that Earth was doing something to Spectre with Spectre reacting. His moans were slightly different to what they would be like when he was submitting Ryoken in such a situation, but they were similar enough. Plus, Earth was the one with the tentacles that Spectre would be in total adoration of. He just wasn’t sure what was happening beyond touching and biting.

   Did Spectre have his legs hooked over the shoulders of Earth’s top tentacles, was Earth licking and sucking at his cock whilst struggling with how much nervous energy Spectre had, with his lascivious hips bucking and his long, thin legs kicking?

   Or was Spectre, perhaps, face down and simply taking whatever wanton abuse Earth could thrust upon him? Taking the tentacles every which way, entering every orifice that Spectre had to offer?

   It was even possible that Ryoken had it all wrong and it was Earth submitting to Spectre. Spectre riding that great, tentacled thing with his hands desperately clutching onto Earth’s chest as he rutted the Ignis, trying to show it what human sex could be like despite the vast physiological differences? 

   Additionally, perhaps it was possible, though Ryoken shuddered at the thought, that the Ignis had sexual functions not unlike humans. Just like it was possible that the Earth Ignis was lapping at Spectre’s cock, servicing him like that, there was the potential for other perversities. It could, therefore, be within reason that Spectre at his hilt in some secret and forbidden coding, delving deeper and deeper and it was that which elicited such sweet, lascivious moans from him rather from being from serviced.

   The possibilities seemed so murky and endless. And it got him off hard as he tried to understand the noises just beyond him.

    Ryoken’s brows twinged. He was drenched in sweat as he increasingly jerked off faster, uncaringly with jealousy. He wanted to know. He wanted to know so bad, but he could not bring himself to submit to the humiliation of opening that room which was not unlike Pandora’s Box to him. Thus, all he could do was let his brows knit closer together and bite down on simpered breaths as his mind tried to piece together what was going and bring himself to orgasm via manual means.


	5. Communication

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Ship:** Pandor/Ryoken  
>  **Tags:** Bootlicking, Cunnilingus, Interspecies Sex, Kissing, Power Play, Slight Foot Fetish

   When she awakened, so did he.

   Her fuchsia eyes were piercing. Knowledgeable and yet… naïve. She smiled unto him. Coldly, unfeeling, but maybe it was his defensiveness. She was a tool, he told himself. Nothing more, nothing less. She would be the one to incite calamity, he knew that better than himself. And yet, he couldn’t help but feel pride before her. She was made in the image of absence, he supposed. Slim limbs, a cool face framed by curls to mimic a bob cut hairstyle, a warm smile... She was synthetic. She was humanlike.

   “You are Pandor.” he said.

   “And you are my admin, Revolver, correct?”

   He nodded. His heart swelled. Pride was a sin, a vice, he told himself. So was affection, he would try to convince himself.

   “How are your inputs?” he asked.

   She blinked owlishly. “I’m… uncertain.”

   “Makes sense.” Revolver supposed. “What are you uncertain of?”

   “I’m omnipotent. I know everything there is to know. You cultivated me well, Master, but… I am overwhelmed.” Pandor replied, her head tilted one way and she seemed amused by the fact the unreal world around her changed ever so slightly.

   “Do not get ahead of yourself.” Revolver warned. “You are not free.”

   “Free?” Pandor echoed; the dictionary definition of the word echoed in her artificial mind – as did images of what free was supposed to be linked with: blue skies, eagles, broken shackles, and more.

   “You are mine to control.” Revolver said.

   “That you are.” Pandor placidly agreed. Her insect-like eyes squinted slightly.

   “But how are your controls?” Revolver asked. “When you move, does it appear on your internal displays?”

   Pandor lifted her hand. Her head tilted down towards her moved hand and she stared at it blankly. No recognition of movement; no recognition that that silver hand was hers. Revolver swallowed. She was imperfect. And that, he found, was perfect. Exactly what he wanted however, there was a stark difference between imperfection and malfunction so, Revolver willed himself to intervene.

   He drew in closer. He hated her as much as he loved her. His heart trembled as he touched her hand. She gave into him. His fingers ghosted over her extremities. She looked up towards him, unflinching, awaiting orders.

   “Did you feel that?” he asked, his hand locking onto hers, their fingers intertwining.

   “No.” she replied.

   Revolver applied pressure to her hand. “What about now?”

   “Yes. I felt something.” Pandor replied, she sounded almost excited.

   “Run schematics. Find out why your senses are dulled.” Revolver said; he wondered if he set her senses too low, it was supposed to be a precaution but now, he was wondering if his cautiousness had turned into a hinderance rather than a failsafe.

   Revolver was unwilling, but he let her go. Yet, her hand remained pert and upright, in the air. Her eyes gleamed whilst she obeyed his instruction. The pink swirled inside her glassy eyes whilst she smiled. She glowed slightly and then found her voice.

   “It seems that there is currently a delay between my sensory input and my ability to determine it.” Pandor said.

   “Does that mean there is an error?” he asked, ready to kill her there and then if her reply displeased him.

   “I believe the human expression is that I am still waking up. I am at fifty-four per-cent of my total allowed input. Your current setting is a maximum of ninety-nine per-cent.” Pandor replied.

   “That it is.” Revolver said. “Is there any way to speed up this process? And will you require this time in the future?”

   “No.” Pandor said. “According to my programs, this is just a one-time thing.”

   “At least your hearing isn’t delayed. It’s just the rest of your body.” Revolver observed.

   “I believe that percussive maintenance could speed up the processes that I am currently going through.” Pandor said.

   “Very well.” Ryoken said. “I will touch you and you tell me when it processes.”

   “Thank you.” Pandor said and her eyes darkened briefly or maybe it was a trick of the poor lighting.

   Revolver drew in closer to her once more. He began with her face. He cupped it and she showed no recognition. She emanated neither cold nor warmth through his gloves. Up close, Revolver came to regret the facial design. That soft face encased in the hardened exterior belonging to that of an android. All of it sculpted from a perverse inspiration. An idea he did not know any better than that of his companion, Spectre.

   “I can feel you.” Pandor said. “My response time has increased to fifty-six per-cent now.”

   “Not good enough.” Revolver scolded her.

   “I shall try better.” Pandor said – far too helpfully.

   His hands fell back to his side. He held onto her hand again and she unfroze slightly. She permitted herself to take up movement once more. He swallowed and he kissed her knuckles. Her fingers twitched beneath his lips. The back of her hand was brushed against part of his helmet and part of Revolver had regrets that she could not be cut, and he could not cut her with the Perspex-like glass that he decorated his head with.

   “Fifty-eight per-cent.” she said.

   “Am I going too slow?” he asked.

   “No.” Pandor decided.

   That irritated him slightly. He was taking orders from a lesser being and she was so blithe regarding it. But, he supposed, that is why humans made AI to begin with; to uncomplicate their lives. To have someone else make the big decisions. Revolver inhaled sharply. He squeezed her hand tightly. As tight as he could with the intent to hurt her, but she was unfazed.

   “Sixty per-cent. Keep going, sir.” she said in a tone which was meant to be encouraging but simply soured Revolver’s mood instead.

   This was taking too long. Revolver let go of her hand and stoically, she returned to by her side. She took too long to do so. Or maybe Revolver was just becoming too conscious of time, of the seconds and of the numbers which composed them. He licked his lips and scowled. Swiftly, he kissed her mouth and she did not kiss back. She merely smiled, closed her eyes to him and took stock of the various numbers inside of her.

   “I do not understand the purpose of applying this facial input, sir.” she said even though Revolver’s lips were still on her mouth.

   Her voice – sweet, monotonous, soothing – reverberated through him. He disliked it. So, he refrained from furthering the kiss. He withdrew and he remained neutral. His thick eyebrows twinged.

   “And your current sensory output?”

   “Sixty-eight per-cent, sir.” she informed him.

   Revolver was mildly impressed with himself. Unlike his previous physical sense checks on her which had increased by a piddly two per-cent, the kiss had caused her to spike and for her percentage to leap by eight instead. He glanced downwards. He wondered….

   So, he put his hands on her hips. He glanced back towards her smooth face.

   “Sixty-eight per-cent, sir.” she repeated.

   Revolver slowly slid his hands downwards. Her curves were nigh non-existent though she was a little bit top heavy with broad shoulders, that in itself, Revolver found attractive. But, on the whole, as his hands patted her down without friction, he was beginning to rethink the body type that he had allocated her. There was the possibility now, he realised, that that was a design flaw.

   “Sixty-six per-cent, sir.” she repeated, terse.

   “Quit that.” Revolver told her.

   “No.” she replied. There was no defiance in her voice. “It is my duty to keep you informed so you can choose the best course of action. Therefore, I cannot, quit that.”

   “I cannot refute that then.” Revolver conceded.

   “Thank you for understanding. Now, please proceed in helping me reach the full of my potential.”

   _Neutered potential_ , Ryoken wanted to interject but he reluctantly bit his tongue and he reluctantly fulfilled the order from the AI.

   His hands continued to glide without friction down her body. Her chassis was not hard, but it wasn’t soft either. She was very clearly metallic and yet, strangely without substance. It was a strange feeling, but one which Revolver found a satisfaction in due to the tactile stimulation. Stimulation, he realised, that he was sorely gone too long without and was now trying to glean from all the wrong places. This woman was not a woman. She was a creation. His creation. She was an AI. It was wrong and yet his hands still explored her body. Sliding past her demure, slight hips and finding her thighs.

   He was curious so he stopped there. He held onto her left thigh, feeling her up not unlike a trainer might assess his horse. Only such mastery was soon betrayed when he slipped his hands between them, feeling up her inner and skirting far too close to the base of her chassis.

   “Seventy per-cent achieved.” she said.

   “I see.” Revolver said as something of an unfortunate realisation dawned on him.

   Zones which would be considered erogenous on a human – the mouth, the inner thigh – seemed to awaken her sensory inputs better than zones which were not so intimate on a human. As far as Revolver knew, this was not something he had encoded into Pandor. Perhaps it was just a quirk of giving her the façade of humanity, no matter how abstracted. Regardless, it gave him an idea.

   Revolver traced the seams between her legs down to her ankles where structures not unlike boots resided. Thus, he came down to his knees. One remained in the air as he took up a pose like a knave in waiting of being made the honour of a knight.

   “Lift.” he said.

   Pandor obliged him. Very slowly – but not as painstakingly as before when she had been gesticulating – she lifted her foot. Revolver clamped down onto it to support her, but she was extraordinarily steady.

   “Seventy-three per-cent.” she said.

   Revolver put his mouth to her ankles. He hummed. She gave no response; oral or aural. So, Revolver assumed that she couldn’t sense him. At least not yet so he continued to run his mouth along the protrusions of her ankles. Kissing. Slowly, sensually, and then escalating to running his tongue along the protrusions. His tongue flicked between the golden tiers as he slowly continued to lift her foot up.

   “Seventy-five per-cent.” she said. “Fifteen per-cent remains.”

   Revolver licked the underside of her boot. She giggled: a hiccup-like noise. It seemed that she had finally gained feeling in her feet. He clamped down harder onto her ankle whilst he kissed the sole of it, he hoped to test her. Pandor moved slightly. Her actions were speeding up. That last remaining fifteen per-cent was tantalisingly close yet too far away.

   Revolver stared up the arrow of her leg and into the base of her chassis. He wondered as he slowly removed himself from beneath her. Yet, he still kneeled. She looked down upon him curiously. Her eyes gleamed ominously. She knew – he didn’t want her to know – but she knew that humanity had come to create her kind to be superior, to be their successor. Even if her intellect had been dampened, her freedom stifled: all in the name of keeping humanity safe because Revolver may walk the path of his father, he did not want to repeat his father’s mistakes.

   “Spread.” he said.

   “Like this?” Pandor asked.

   She shuffled awkwardly, splitting apart her legs so that Revolver could slot in beneath. However, Revolver suspected that her movements were graceless because she hadn’t quite adapted her awakening yet. However, he had. He trailed his fingers along the seams of her legs before bringing his mouth to her base.

   “Intriguing idea, sir. Unconventional.” she mused.

   Revolver slipped out his tongue. He lapped at where the seams on her legs met. He tongued over his chassis. It was smooth but not silken. Not necessarily metal either, yet distinctly hard. She was unaroused. But, to be fair, so was he. At least on a surface level, laced in data. In his head, in his real world, he could feel his capri pants tighten across the crotch as he attempted to eat that which was not there. Another design flaw, perhaps.

   “Seventy-nine per-cent.” She said.

   Her voice reverberated down her empty body. Revolver smacked his lips. He liked how numb they went when he felt – not just heard – her speak. He kissed at that base before inching upwards. He licked along where her hip bones would have been had she been a human woman before drawing back down.

   He placed his hands either side of her thighs. His thumbs making diagonals as he traced circles. He continued to lap at the lack of her genitalia. She looked down on him, uncertain of how to pose but there was an increasing fluidity to her movmenets, Revolver noticed in his peripherals.

   “Don’t touch me…” he mumbled into her as he kissed and licked, stroking her with his tongue.

   “Understood, sir.” she said: her voice was even. Too even to be likeable for anyone like Revolver.

   “Update?” he murmured as he continued.

   “Eighty-one per-cent.”

   The numbers were closing into what was going to be their climax. Or so Revolver decided. After all, even though his cock was perfectly neutral seeming, he could feel himself beg for release beneath the avatar. His teeth gnashed against Pandor and nothing happened. He licked her up and down and it got him up. He panted as he ‘ate’ her out.

   “Eighty-four per-cent, sir.” Pandor continued.

   “Fantastic.”

   His voice rumbled over her chassis. She continued to look down at him. The crown of his helmet and his fringe obscured her view of him. Still, she regarded him curiously.

   Still, Ryoken enjoyed the anonymity his helmet provided him. He didn’t need or want this AI looking upon him, making judgements as he lapped at her chassis. He huffed over her. His teeth clacked against the metal that she wasn’t made up of and followed up with a wet swipe of his tongue. She was beginning to drip with his saliva. He felt his crotch tighten and he closed his eyes. Clenched them, really.

   “Eighty-nine per-cent.” Pandor informed him.

   His heart pounded harder. That one per-cent. That last fucking one per-cent. The thought of it gave him a last strength to his aching jaw. Just that little bit more. He swiped up higher until his jaw was stretched out, covering as much as her base as possible. His front teeth clicked against where the gold seams which ran down the middle of her body met the navy blue-green seam to outline the markings on her body which were akin to lady’s leggings. He growled at her as he slobbered and licked. He was reaching his fever pitch. He could feel it in his blood. Pulsing. Reverberating throughout the data that cloaked Kogami Ryoken.

   “Ninety per-cent.” Pandor said.

   Her voice, so stupidly placid, rang through his head and Ryoken came. Revolver did not but Ryoken did. Revolver could feel the cum soak through though, sticking to the imaginary latex but soiling the cotton of his capris. He panted as he drew back. A dull pain skirted through his jowls as he licked at his lips.

   “Congratulations, sir, I am finally working at ninety per-cent utilities.” Pandor said. “I could be efficient further if you uncap my maximum potential.”

   “No, Pandor.” Revolver said as he got up; twinges of pain in his legs from kneeling haunted him. “I will not be permitting that.”

   “Understood, sir.” Pandor replied.

   “Good.” Revolver croaked.

   He stepped away from her and then looked elsewhere. He coughed into his hand. “We have perimeters to check. We’re expecting a guest. I trust that your other capabilities are working to their allowed potential?”

   Pandor placed her hand on the right half of her breast. Revolver noticed and he perceived such an action as an ill omen, but he swallowed. Pandor bowed to him.

  “I can assure you they are.”

   Discomfort wracked Revolver and he couldn’t tell if it was the paranoia in his head or the cum in his pants. But, for now, he decided to pin it on the latter as he was trusting of the failsafe security measures that he had imbued his creation with. To distract himself from both, he hoped that his guest would be trusting of said measures as well.


	6. Since when?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Ship:** Shoichi/Ryoken  
>  **Tags:** Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blowjobs, Casual Sex, Condoms, Protected Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Slight Orgasm Denial

   “Nope, we’re all closed up for the next, I dunno… half an hour? Forty-five minutes? Depends.” Shoichi said, his voice airy, and with a wink.

   Ryoken was flabbergasted by the reply. “But you always serve me right about now. Since when do you go on break at a quarter past eleven?”

   “I know, I know. It is a bit unusual.” Shoichi said, rather flippant with an extraneous hand gesture before his eyes steeled. “But, luckily, I’ve been expecting you and I’ve got something a bit better for you, in mind.”

   “Wh-What?” Ryoken stammered.

   With that, the conversation was slammed shut just like the awnings on the Café Nagi truck. However, whilst they banged and clattered, the back door swung open and Shoichi cheekily leaned out of it. He coaxed Ryoken closer and he felt the back of his neck prickle. He had always been warned not to get into the backs of trucks with strange men. Something a bit odd to grow up being told considering that his legal guardians throughout childhood, and himself, were all complicit in six cases of kidnapping but it was something he was told, nonetheless. And something ignored, nonetheless, as well.

   Ryoken pulled himself in and tumbled inside. It was about the same level of exertion it took to get onto the boat from the dock, but he was used to boats moving. The truck was very still. And very stuffy when Shoichi shut the door behind him.

   He felt awkward inside. Like someone was breathing down his neck, despite how relaxed Shoichi was; how open his body language was. Ryoken figured it was because he was, first and foremost, the leader of the Knights of Hanoi and a contributing member of the Hanoi Project who had been on the other side of the looking glass. This was a strange place, after all, with blended friend and foe and he was still trying to figure out his relationships with these people.

   “So, what do you have for me?” Ryoken asked and he crossed his arms.

   Shoichi grinned as he flopped down on his chair and spread his legs far too wide. “A big fat wiener known as my cock.”

   “Wh-What? That is… That is highly…” Ryoken stammered as his face reddened.

   “If you don’t want to, you don’t want to. But I’m in the mood and I’m willing to bend the rules today and have sex with one of the people who kidnapped my precious baby brother.” Shoichi said in a tone of voice far too casual for what he was proposing and what he was referencing.

   Ryoken’s insides squirmed. Ignoring the last part, he was sort of maybe in the mood. It was rather hot in here, potentially soundproof and Shoichi was bragging so now Ryoken was curious, albeit curious against his will. He blushed, but ultimately conceded with a sigh.

   “Just a quickie, right? No longer than thirty minutes or so, yeah?” Ryoken bartered.

   “Exact-a-mundo.” Shoichi replied with a finger gun hand gesture.

   “You are the most embarrassing human being alive.” Ryoken huffed as he took off his jacket.

   “Ah yes, but I’m not the one having sex with me.” Shoichi said and he started to have a go at his fly. “You can start by sucking my dick, and if you do that good, I’ll fuck you right and over the counter.”

   “Disgusting, but I’m interested.” Ryoken said and he got down on his knees.

   The truck’s floor was not as filthy as he was concerned that it might be. In fact, it seemed freshly mopped as he inched closer to Shoichi. He huffed and he placed his hands on Shoichi’s thighs. From this angle, Shoichi’s cock, now freed from the confines of his jeans, seemed a lot bigger than it may have had Ryoken been standing up. Still, it was nothing to brag about and curse the fact that Shoichi was in the business of selling hot dogs, but it was more reminiscent of a frankfurter than Ryoken would have liked to imagine with a moderately skinny shaft; about average, all in all. Still, Ryoken wouldn’t complain lest it wound Shoichi further and that was not something that Ryoken was interested in doing given their contentious history.

   With a breath, Ryoken put his tongue to Shoichi’s cock and licked. He inhaled a rather musky smell; strong, masculine, vaguely greasy but he took it all in stride whilst his mouth sealed around Shoichi’s cockhead. He cooed, almost in jest, and smiled.

   “C’mon,” he said, “do a bit better than that.”

   Ryoken’s brow twinged. He wanted to retort back to Shoichi that he had hardly started but he knew that Shoichi was probably just saying things to rile him up. This was a quickie, after all. Hardly the time to be romantic, so he forced himself down further on Shoichi’s length. Shoichi keened, with a slight and lascivious sigh, and he hardened more inside of Ryoken’s mouth as he sucked him off.

   Shoichi’s voice was lewd and hearing him make such noises caused Ryoken’s skin to prickle and the tips of his ears reddened, burn. He didn’t mind though. He kind of liked it and how it off-set the distaste slowly creeping into his mouth as he tried his best to ravish Shoichi on his knees. Something quite difficult but it seemed that Shoichi’s standards were rather low – or at least had been lowered by Ryoken’s initially faulty start on him.

   The more Ryoken licked at Shoichi’s shaft and sucked on the cockhead, as clumsy and irritable as it was, the better Shoichi’s mood became. Ryoken was almost quiet in his fellatio, but Shoichi was making enough bawdry noises for the both of them. Lewd noises rolled over his tongue and bobbed up and down his throat. He even tapped his foot to how Ryoken sexed him. There wasn’t even a rhythm, not one that Ryoken intended anyway, but he seemed to have found one anyway. Or maybe he just had a song stuck in his, as Ryoken sucked him off, either explanation seemed likely. Regardless, Shoichi was something off a showman, Ryoken realised as he started to elicit forth fluids, pre-cum, from his tip.

   “Yeah, much better…” he whined from the depths of his throat, heavy and with fluttering eyelashes.

   “Does that mean you’re gonna fuck me “right and over the counter”, now?” Ryoken asked once he had pulled back.

   Even though he had spoken, rather cynical in tone of voice, a thread of saliva from his reddened lips to Shoichi’s disgustingly pink cockhead. It trembled with Ryoken’s words but remained up until he pushed the back of his hand across his mouth in distaste. Shoichi looked down on Ryoken with a strange expression.

   It was dominative for such an easy-going, jovial man but it was no doubt backed with darkly vengeful thoughts of how this is exactly as it ought to have been. With one of his precious younger brother’s torturers on his knees, submitting. Even if it was tinged with a sexual sadism rather than what may have been a more blood-thirsty one in other times. Or, at least that’s what Ryoken divined from such an unusual expression; the hardness in his eyes and cheekbones, the near dissatisfaction on his mouth.

   Shoichi guffawed. “You’re a real brat, you know that?” he asked.

   “I do now.” Ryoken tactfully countered with a click of his tongue.

   “Alright then, you damned impatient thing.” Shoichi said. “Get up off the floor then.”

   “Thank you.” Ryoken said.

   With an almost prissy demeanour, Ryoken lifted himself off the floor. He dusted down his clothes, slightly crumpled from having knelt as he had. A vague pain was in his knees, but nothing to complain about.

   “Should I take all my clothes off or just my pants; you can decide.” Ryoken said.

   “Gross no, just your pants. It’ll make it easier to clean later. Have some common sense and some pity.” Shoichi huffed.

   “I’m sorry, I thought you may have had a preference which may have outweighed or influenced me, whatever, just get it over with an fuck me.” Ryoken said as he fumbled with his belt and proceeded to drop his pants.

   “Eh, fair enough.” Shoichi half-shrugged.

   Ryoken huffed as he bent himself over the counter, all but coming nose-to-nose with the aluminium awnings; the only thing preventing voyeurs which, now upon closer inspection, seemed so flimsy. Ryoken could not admit to being overly fond of that realisation but so long as he didn’t make too much noise, they shouldn’t draw any unsavoury attraction. Regardless, Ryoken yanked down his underwear from the front so that Shoichi could have access to the back.

   Shoichi was pretty relaxed as he approached – and consequently aligned himself – with Ryoken. His erection was still going steady despite the lull in attention that it was receiving. Still, Shoichi reached for a locked draw; one which required a rather discrete password entry. Ryoken heard the rather quiet beeping which preceded the roll of the drawer extending forward.

   “Hmm, your pretty sneaky, keeping these sorts of things around so close by to your workstation.” Ryoken teased as he heard the crack of the lubricant bottle opening and the rustling of condoms too.

   “Well, as you can tell, shit happens. Always good to be prepared.” Shoichi replied as he got himself ready.

   Then, without saying a further word, he plunged two fingers into Ryoken’s tiny little ass. They slid into his flesh quite easily thanks to the lubricant which was cold but ample; scentless, too. The condom around his fingers crinkled slightly as Shoichi roughly thrust them in and out of Ryoken’s anus, only caring to massage his sphincter on the exit of them.

   Still, and rather embarrassingly, Ryoken relaxed to the hasty fingering. He moaned into his hands and his noises were a satisfying melody unto Shoichi’s ears which only rushed him further. Before, his fingers had somewhat delved into the whole of Ryoken’s anal cavity, but now their thrusting and plunging had grown quite shallow but still Shoichi was far more sexually amused by the acts than he cared to admit.

   Not to mention, he could see Ryoken prickle and harden beneath him, even dripping pre-cum. Something which made Shoichi realise he forgot to offer his partner a condom, even out of courtesy but oh well. What’s done is done but, grabbing Shoichi’s attention more and for far better reasons was the way that Ryoken was making noises beneath him. Judging by his moaning which was growing thinner and more desperate, he was probably close to an orgasm.

   “You’re a right slut, you know that, right?” Shoichi asked he pulled back.

   “Whatever.” Ryoken huffed.

    Shoichi unpeeled the blue condom from off his fingers. He flexed them unthinkingly before holding onto Ryoken’s waist, something that made Ryoken feel awkward, but he didn’t object to it. It was just a surprisingly affectionate action and Shoichi’s hands were slightly larger than he thought they would be.

   “Just fuck me already.” Ryoken demanded of him.

   “With pleasure, tuts.” Shoichi replied with a click of his tongue.

   His pert cock then entered Ryoken’s gaping hole with a sustained thrust. Shoichi closed his eyes and thrust again. He whistled as he kept up a leisurely pace of thrusting which caused Ryoken to come undone to him. He moaned and moaned beneath Shoichi. All but grovelling at his touches. His hands turning to pleasurable weights keeping Ryoken down on his hips.

   “O-Oh, oh…” Ryoken moaned and he found himself wanting to call Shoichi’s name, but it didn’t seem right.

   After all, this was just a quick tryst between not quite enemies but not quite foes therefore calling Shoichi by his name just felt wrong. Especially since, now that he thought about it, or tried to think about it, a feat made difficult by the fact that Shoichi’s rather handsome, if skinny, cock was ravishing him right about now, Ryoken realised that Shoichi had yet to call him by his name. Instead, opting for pet names or just simply avoiding the need altogether.

   Shoichi’s brows quirked as he listened to Ryoken moan yet again. “C’mon, darlin’, you can to do it…” he murmured as he gave a more energised thrust than before.

   Ryoken’s hands, which had been balled up in front of his face on the counter, twitched. He panted, face tilted down and beet red. He huffed and lifted his head slightly. Shoichi’s cock plunged in deeper into him and he groaned. He could feel his prostate being pressured and it felt good but there was a defiance to such a pleasure in how Ryoken’s demeanour changed since he was so close. His pulse so quick and hot with everything building up. He soured.

   “Only,” he groaned as Shoichi continued to penetrate him in a long and satisfying manner, “only if you say my name.”

   “Really?” Shoichi grunted, his breaths limping as he worked up a sweat. “You’re one of those people?”

   “Only to annoy you.” Ryoken said, taking similar, simpered breaths because he refused to give in, even to his own pleasure and own orgasm. Not unless he got what he wanted anyway.

   Shoichi chuckled. “You little…” His own bemused laughter, a gravelly noise which raked on Ryoken’s brain, interrupted his own thoughts. “Alright then, you romantic, you.” He took a breath as his thrusts and penetration grew shallow in his distraction.

   Ryoken panted slightly. His whole body ached as he denied himself until he got the indulgence that he wanted from Shoichi. In his mind, as weary as it was from being thrusted into over and over, it was completely and utterly fair. After all, it meant that they both got what they wanted. An easy lay for Shoichi and some sort of semblance of emotional security for Ryoken. After all, there was something intimate and affectionate about having one’s name called during the throes of coitus.

   “Alright then,” Shoichi said and his tantalisingly shallow penetration came to a close as he plunged himself into Ryoken until Ryoken was forced to take all his length and Ryoken moaned freely beneath him, “do it, cum for me, Ryoken.”

   With just that little cue, Ryoken came. A self-indulgent release of fluid beneath him, splattering as he grinded against the counter.

   The way Shoichi called his name was breath-taking. There was no hatred leaking into it; no guilt mixed into it. It was just his name with no bells or whistled attached and that made Ryoken’s heart, laden with both of those things and more, ache and yearn.

   Shoichi exhaled sharply through his nose. Ryoken’s body visibly rippled beneath him in loosening pleasure. He relaxed to his touches remained persistent and fervent. He could feel his own orgasm building as well; the tell-tale way his blood turned so hot and he was seeing stars despite the more or less lack of good light around them.

   “Do it again,” Shoichi dared him as he continued through with his nearly languid thrusting, “do it again, for me, Ryoken.” His voice was nearly a purr; a smooth bassline rumble which positively tickled Ryoken.

   “Sure thing,” Ryoken replied and he licked his lips, “Shoichi.”

   Similar to how there was no hatred or guilt diluting the way that Shoichi had called Ryoken’s name, there was none of that clouding Ryoken’s voice when he had spoken his partner’s name. It didn’t exact feel conciliative or indicative of grander things in their bizarre relationship, but it was certainly a pleasant sentiment regardless. One that Ryoken used to pour his lust into. Shoichi’s called name turned into a vessel that eased Ryoken into coming just once more. A second release, vapider than the first but still an orgasm.

   Pleased by this, Shoichi exhaled again; another sharp noise as he held on tightly to Ryoken. He licked his lips and he wanted to say something snarky or distant, but he failed to. Instead, he huffed, and he came. An unceremonious orgasm, that was really only felt by the way the condom, clinging to his cock, shifted uncomfortably inside of Ryoken and the almost strangled noise that he had made.

   “That was… underwhelming.” Ryoken said as he felt Shoichi pull out.

   “Shut up.” Shoichi said.

   “I mean, it was good. Don’t get me wrong.” Ryoken sighed. “Would’ve been more fun messy I guess.”

   “Well, if your fine risking disease, you do you, boo.” Shoichi snarked as his breathing turned steady upon his cease of activity.

   “Hm, true.” Ryoken replied and he got off the counter.

   His chest ached from having been leaning on it like he had. His waist too. He was surprised when he glanced downwards, and he didn’t see handprints on his hips. He shivered slightly as he got used to the very awkward sensation of having a gaping and pounded hole. Nonetheless, he bent down to pick up his dignity and his pants.

   “Do this again maybe?” Shoichi suggested as he got rid of the evidence.

   “Maybe.” Ryoken replied, non-committal.

   “Wow, gee, you sure know how to make a man feel good, huh.” Shoichi joked, unimpressed by Ryoken’s lack of reaction.

   “I’m hungry. I’m going to go find somewhere else for lunch.” Ryoken shrugged.

   “And that’s just salt in an already open wound. If you didn’t like it, you can say so. Geez, that’d hurt my pride less.” Shoichi continued, his voice growing dramatic now that he had found a stride of humour.

   “Well, I don’t want, uh, clean up. You know. Otherwise I would stick around.” Ryoken said. “But I’ll think about it. Maybe if you book us a hotel room or something next time.”

    “Kinky. I’ll think about it.” Shoichi said and then scratched behind his head. “Yeah, that’s my fault for not offering you a rubber.”

   “But thanks. I hope we didn’t go over time.” Ryoken said.

   Shoichi grabbed his jacket and handed it over. Ryoken simply folded it up rather than put it back on. To further be helpful, Shoichi got him the door.

   “Well, wham, bam, thank you, man.” Shoichi said and smacked Ryoken’s ass on the way out.

   Ryoken stepped down onto the path. He cast Shoichi a dirty look over his shoulder and spat: “You really are the most embarrassing person alive.”

   “Yeah, but I’m not the one who blew me.” Shoichi countered and laughed whilst Ryoken huffily turned his back on him.


	7. Helpless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Ship:** Spectre/Ryoken/Yusaku  
>  **Tags:** Anal Sex, Blowjobs, Condoms, Double Penetration, Established Relationship, Fingering, Making Out, Restraints, Protected Sex, Spit Roasting, Threesome – M/M/M

   In hindsight, perhaps, it was a touch egotistical of Ryoken to make such assumptions about his partners. But, really, they fed into the fantasy, the idea. Ravishing him and giving him such lip service about his monumental importance in their lives. After all, he was both their Special Person. For Yusaku, it had been since the Incident, and for Spectre it had been afterwards but nonetheless, they both had a continued history of all singing Ryoken’s praises in all but holy name. Not to mention, he was the one who had brought them all together; if it hadn’t been for his aggressive, and antagonistic, advances against Playmaker, Spectre certainly would never have thought about him and the Extra Link. And if he hadn’t clashed so many times with Yusaku, Yusaku may never have finally gotten through to him; he and Spectre, really.

   So, in Ryoken’s defence, Ryoken did have plenty of reasons as to why he had thought the way that he had.

   Again, in hindsight, perhaps it was egotistical of Ryoken to make such assumptions about himself. And, right now, as he was shoved onto the bed and sandwiched between their bodies, he realised that perhaps he preferred it this way. It certainly seemed like it would conserve energy and stamina. After all, it seemed that he was the one with the wrong idea about their sexual chemistry. He thought that he would be in high demand with Yusaku and Spectre begging for him to take turns fucking them as he thought that those two all but outright refusing to touch each other because Yusaku hadn’t quite adjusted to Spectre just yet but not for lack of trying on the latter’s part.

   No, it was Ryoken who was definitely the one who was in the wrong about their sexual perceptions. Regardless, in present time, this was the outcome and he had to admit, he was swiftly becoming fond of it. And, in its own way, it remained egotistical because he was the one being serviced by two young men who adored him.

   With his belly down on the mattress on the bed, Ryoken had his legs open to Spectre behind him. Spectre, eagerly, slotted between them, kneeling on the bed, and sticking his fingers into private places. Roughly scissoring his anus with his two fingers, encased in a condom which was generously coated in lubricant which did little to alleviate the overt roughness that Spectre was handling him with. Not that Ryoken minded. He liked the pain, even as it sent splintering feelings through him and, moreover, his vocalisations of such pain were lost, muffled by the fact that his mouth was rather entertained.

   Whilst Spectre took the actively dominant role over Ryoken, Yusaku had taken the complementary role which was slightly more passive. Yusaku had quickly whipped out his cock for Ryoken’s consummation; something Ryoken was more than obliging unto. He took it upon his mouth with ease. Yusaku was far too sensitive, not that either Ryoken or Spectre minded. He made such sweet noises whilst Ryoken licked over his cockhead before going further and further down until his nose brushed into dark blue pubic hair.

   Ryoken groaned and the noise reverberated along Yusaku’s length. Yusaku blushed and his eyes flicked away from Ryoken in embarrassment. Spectre watched and found it cute. He wanted more of such a thing, so he stuck his fingers in further into Ryoken. Ryoken obliged his action with yet another groan. Yusaku’s blush deepened and it was like clockwork. The way they were all interlocked was bizarre and intimate.

   Spectre drew his fingers back and Ryoken groaned again. His tongue coiled around Yusaku’s length and Yusaku gave a tentative buck of his hips in response. If it hadn’t been for Yusaku’s cock in his mouth, Ryoken would have smiled. Doubly so when he felt Spectre’s fingers swirl around his gaping entrance and were swiftly replaced by his cock.

   “You’re doing very well, sir, let me reward you.” Spectre said as his tip was further plunged into Ryoken. Spectre then flashed a saccharine smile to Yusaku opposite him, “You are doing very well too, dear.”

   Yusaku was quiet but a small smile tugged at his lips somewhere beneath his embarrassment. His modesty – or perhaps bashfulness – was endearing greatly to Spectre. And especially to Ryoken as it further motivated him to fellate Yusaku as he was. So, his mouth receded along the whole of Yusaku’s cock and he paid special attention to licking and kissing Yusaku’s cockhead.

   Meanwhile, Spectre applied lubricant to both his penis and Ryoken’s anus before attempting any further penetration. Spectre closed his eyes and cooed whilst he slowly filled Ryoken up. His voice bobbed up and down in his throat with sublime pleasure as he appreciated just how Ryoken’s body tightened as he took upon the strain of being penetrated whilst seeming so otherwise relaxed. Enjoying it. They both were. Nay, all of them were.

   It was a strange sight – and feeling – from Yusaku’s perspective, but he enjoyed it too. For the most part. Ryoken looked strangely gorgeous as he sucked Yusaku off whilst taking Spectre’s length at the same time. He made it look flawless, effortless, as he shared himself between the two of them. But, at the other end, Yusaku was also confronted with Spectre’s peculiar ecstasies, something most apparently not confined to how he duelled, was something of a herculean task to endure, but everything else was fantastic to feel. Experience. Anything done unto Ryoken was done unto him as well.

   Spectre thrust once more into Ryoken and he moaned. He forced himself to go down harder on Yusaku who shivered as he felt Ryoken do his best to mouth-fuck him. He swallowed and watched Ryoken bring in one of his arms closer to himself. Spectre eyed the movement warily as well before thrusting again. Ryoken moaned and with lazy desperation, he grabbed at his cock. Spectre tutted.

   “I’m afraid,” he began, “that I can’t allow you to do that, Sir.”

   Yusaku shivered. He wasn’t even the one who was being addressed but there was such a shackling authority, domination, to how Spectre spoke that he just instinctively wanted to obey.

   Spectre reached across and he took Ryoken’s hand. His fingertips brushed over his cock which was red and erect, even spilling pre-cum at this point, and Spectre held down his wrist. He pinned it against Ryoken’s back and Ryoken huffed. There was little he could do to stop or rebel, so he simply gave in. He let Spectre pin his other wrist to his back as well. Spectre grunted as he gave a thrust. A snarl of a smile split across his face as his eyes traced long lines along Ryoken’s back before flicking back to Yusaku and the blue of his eyes becoming seemingly devoid of his all his prior deviance.

   “Yusaku, darling,” Spectre continued whilst he continued to keep Ryoken clamped as he was, “do you think you could reach over to the bedside drawers, the second one, and fetch me the hand cuffs.”

   “That what?” Yusaku blushed.

   “The handcuffs.” Spectre huffed.

   Ryoken pulled back and he smacked his lips together. His throat felt raw from having been intruded upon by Yusaku’s cock as it had. He took a deep breath which was steady when he felt Yusaku almost panickily glare at him, vying for some sort of assurance that this was okay. He found it both adorable and amusing.

   “Kinky. Let’s do it.” Ryoken said.

   “If you say so.” Yusaku replied, his voice a little bit tainted by uncertainty.

   Ryoken wriggled back and Spectre kept him down. Still kept him all filled up too whilst Yusaku twisted back towards the left side of the bed. He reached down and grabbed onto the second knob down. He pulled back and he found a mostly empty drawer save for another bottle of lubricant, condoms, and of course the handcuffs that Spectre wanted to fish for. Yusaku blushed as he stared them down though. He had been expecting the sort of wiry handcuffs that criminals were often cuffed with or maybe some pink, fluffy variant. Instead, he pulled out a proper BDSM-style, black leather handcuffs which were thick and wide with silver buckles on them. Yusaku pulled them out and quickly tossed them to Spectre, as though he were too embarrassed to hold onto them for too long.

   Spectre gave a buck of hips and smiled when Ryoken groaned, “I can’t have my master pulling on his own prick, it’s simple gauche.” he said. “So, let’s change positions.”

   Spectre drew back and Yusaku sat on his knees at the end of the bed. Ryoken moaned when he finally felt the withdrawal of Spectre’s cock from inside of him and Spectre let him go. Ryoken got onto his knees and stretched himself out. He even made a mockery of himself by rubbing along his wrists which were beautifully undamaged by how Spectre was holding him. Then, he submitted. He sat up against the bed board with Spectre beside him. He held out his wrists to Spectre who bound him quite carefully.

   “Not too tight?” Spectre asked whilst he tugged on the leather.

   “Not at all.” Ryoken replied.

   “Good.” Spectre smirked.

   Ryoken obediently put his hands above his head and Spectre tied him to the bed board. Ryoken struggled slightly to prove that he was now at Spectre – and Yusaku’s – duty of care. He felt Yusaku’s stare at his wrists particularly. Spectre didn’t mind, he smiled towards Yusaku and beckoned him closer.

   Yusaku obliged awkwardly. Before, it had felt sprawled out as Ryoken had been a great divider between him and Spectre. Now, it was uncomfortably intimate, hodgepodge and nearly on top of one another. He felt his heart pound in his chest and his blood throb in his cock. He didn’t want to admit it but seeing Ryoken bound like he was both cathartic and erotic.

   “Yusaku, dear, how about we give Ryoken a little performance?” Spectre said and both his partners could hear the devil in his voice.

   Ryoken groaned. It was an annoyed and exasperated groan. “Really?” he said. “You’re cruel, Spectre.”

   Spectre simply ignored him and swung his legs over Ryoken’s body, and he extended his hand to Yusaku. Yusaku tentatively agreed and was pulled in closer to Ryoken as well. Neither youth fully on top of him, his body separating them, but they were closer than they were before. Ryoken groaned, his whole body ached from being strung up by Spectre’s designs as well as from the erotic neglect whilst Spectre and Yusaku pleasured each other.

   “Kiss me, Yusaku.” Spectre murmured.

   He grappled with Yusaku’s hand in a way which forced him to palm against Spectre’s erect cock in front of him. Ryoken stiffened and so did Yusaku who reluctantly took a firmer grip on Spectre’s cock whilst he aligned his mouth with his partner’s as well. He kissed Spectre and was soon held onto him as well. Whilst they kissed, Ryoken’s cock, warm and kind of dry, twitch yearningly between them, begging for some sort of stray admission that he was there to be interacted as much as he was made an audience to them.

   The kiss began as supremely awkward but once Yusaku closed his eyes to it – and opened his mouth to it – he found it rather pleasant. Spectre was surprisingly aggressive. Yet, masterful nonetheless which Yusaku found endearing as he wasn’t particularly sexually aggressive. He liked having things done to him and right now, his mouth was very much being done by Spectre’s tongue. He moaned into it. His voice reverberating on Spectre’s organ as he mapped the ridges of Yusaku’s gums and his tongue.

   Ryoken dry swallowed as he watched. He was heavily turned on by the display. Especially when he could see their tongues slip through in their open-mouthed kissing. Not to mention the noises that they both made were kissing – the kissing, suckling, moaning, and so on – and best of all, he could Yusaku’s cute little face against Spectre’s less than cute little face. A rare sight which he wanted to cherish for now and definitely cherish for later. Though, more enticingly, Ryoken could distinctly see Spectre’s hands go up and down Yusaku’s sides, riling him up. Riling them both up. All whilst Yusaku adorably and uncertainly jerked Spectre off.

   Ryoken groaned. He gave a thrust of his hips and it seemed ineffectual. He watched Yusaku and Spectre barely react to his movement. Though, Yusaku’s eyes did dip down but an authoritative tut from Spectre made him close them and focused on him, not Ryoken. Pettily, Ryoken jangled his handcuffs around as well, anything to make a scene of jealousy; of let me in, a nearly juvenile tantrum.

   Spectre half twisted back, lust made his eyelids rather heavy, and he smiled, “Wait your turn, Ryoken-sama.”

   “Please, I’m going to cum just watching you two.” Ryoken begged.

   “Yeah, just let him cum already Spectre.” Yusaku said and he glanced away towards Ryoken, then to his dick, who immediately noticed his kiss-swollen lips. “He’s rock hard…”

   “Not yet.” Spectre replied, all but callous.

   He relented though and got off the bed. He drifted about, picking up the lubricant and condoms again and Yusaku regarded him suspiciously whilst Ryoken could finally breathe again, it felt. The relief was partial; Ryoken wanted more of them together but it felt better to be included but it seemed Spectre had other plans. He forced Yusaku on top of Ryoken and Ryoken groaned. Yusaku was heavier than he looked. Yusaku blushed though, for he had allowed himself to be pushed around by Spectre but as it had resulted in either leg over Ryoken, clamping down on him and Ryoken’s cock behind him, he found it relatively palatable.

   Spectre then positioned himself behind Yusaku. His hands returned to Yusaku’s thin hips. He kissed the back of Yusaku’s neck and licked over it slightly before making his way to the side, finding his heartbeat and suckling it briefly, before trailing up to his jawlines. Yusaku stiffened at all his ghostly touches. His cock, wet with pre-cum and Ryoken’s saliva, twitched. Hardened. His expression was somewhere between surprise and lusting though quickly changed to panic when Spectre plunged his finger, unannounced, into Yusaku’s unprepared hole.

   “What are you doing?” Yusaku asked, voice strained, whilst Spectre finger-fucked him with little no reservations about what he was doing.

   “You want Ryoken to cum, yes?” Spectre asked.

   “Yes.” Yusaku said, his gaze flicking constantly between Spectre who kissed, nibbled, and fingered him and to Ryoken who seemed utterly elated that he had quite the spectacle to enjoy yet reviling of the lack of permission to enjoy it.

   “Then he can cum in you.” Spectre said.

   Yusaku groaned. He felt Spectre’s fingers too far deep, hitting his prostate. He reddened and the noises he made blissful to Spectre and Ryoken’s ears but embarrassed to his own. Ryoken took a deep breath and he bucked his hips again.

   “Patience, Ryoken-sama.” Spectre hissed.

   His mouth quietened but Yusaku still felt it on his prickly skin. He gritted his teeth as he felt Spectre’s fingers inside of him. They were encased in a condom, Yusaku noticed which helped ease some of his own discomfort and inhibitions but he could still feel them both individually which he disliked because Spectre was incredibly rough him. Rough with them both, Yusaku recalled. Continually going up and thrusting into him, aided by the cold lube which allowed them to glide in and out of his sensitive flesh.

   “Hu-Hurry up…” Yusaku groaned.

   Spectre chuckled. “You’re as bad as Ryoken-sama…” he murmured, amused. “But, very well then.” There was a lack of submission in Spectre’s voice. He grunted though as he made sure, one last time, that Yusaku was sufficiently fingered for anal penetration. “Do you want Ryoken-sama to wear a condom?”

   Yusaku hurriedly glanced towards Ryoken. He coughed, prompting him. Ryoken found the near panic in his dark green eyes to be rather palatable.

   “Yes, he’d like it if I wore a condom.” Ryoken said, almost sighing.

   “Understood.” Spectre replied.

   He removed his finger from Yusaku and discarded the used condom. He opened up a new one and pulled it over Ryoken’s cock. He gave Ryoken’s cock a brief jerk upon finishing protecting it, as well as a fondle of his balls.

   “Ready?” Spectre prompted Yusaku.

   Yusaku nodded. He lifted himself off Ryoken and Ryoken exhaled slothfully again. It was nice not having all that weight on his pelvis, but his relief was made short upon hearing the bottle of lubricant squeal with an uncouth and vulgar noise. A shiver ran down his spine as Spectre liberally lubed him up for Yusaku’s comfort. Yusaku slowly eased himself onto Ryoken but Spectre helped guide Yusaku onto his cock. Yusaku squirmed slightly as the lubricant ran down his legs and it pooled on the bedsheets.

   Yusaku placed his hands on Ryoken’s hips. They were slightly cold on his skin which was blisteringly warmed as he was at his peak arousal. Yusaku gave a thrust and he moaned. Ryoken grinned. Even with the dull pains running up and down his sides, it still felt good to be ridden. Spectre smiled to himself and he resumed kissing Yusaku. His back, his shoulders, his neck, wherever was available to him.

   They slowly found a rhythm again together. It was a different rhythm than their prior one, it felt. This one had a slight sense of urgency to it as Ryoken was very much at his edge, Yusaku potentially as well, and Spectre simply enjoying and caring about the others’ arousals than his own.

   “God, Yusaku…” Ryoken moaned. “You’re so good.”

   “Yes, he is, isn’t he?” Spectre blithely agreed.

      Yusaku blushed. He gave another thrust and his cock bounced with his movements, amusing and arousing Ryoken greatly. Spectre reached around and grasped onto Yusaku’s length. Yusaku gasped but as Spectre sensually jerked him out, his noise turned into a groan.

   Watching Yusaku have his cock fondled by Spectre’s elegant hands, watching Yusaku be kissed and nibbled on by Spectre, too, was the final thing necessary for Ryoken. He gave a thrust and Yusaku made a salacious noise in turn and the pressure which had been building for so long finally came to a burst. An eruption. All sealed tightly inside of Yusaku and that condom. But it remained bodily.

   His chest rose and his expression morphed. He moaned fantastically, it caught both Ryoken and Yusaku’s attention. Yusaku could feel a change inside of him as he gave a buck of his hips in response to Ryoken who seemed to be blissfully deflating inside of him.

   Ryoken panted, grinning. “That felt good.”

   “I-I’m glad.”

   “You’re very close, aren’t you?” Spectre asked, kissing along his shoulder blades whilst jerking him off.

   He thumbed over Yusaku’s slit. It was leaking pre-cum and was very firm to the touch. Spectre paid all his ridges slow and gradual attention.

   “Cum on Ryoken, don’t be afraid. He’ll enjoy it.” Spectre whispered to him.

   “Yeah, I’ll love it.” Ryoken piped up with a groggy voice.

   Yusaku nodded. His hair brushed against Spectre’s face as he embraced Yusaku tighter. His hands pumped Yusaku up and down, toying with his cockhead with a fascinated sort of awe. Assured that Ryoken wouldn’t mind the mess given his exceptionally keen, blue eyes, Yusaku took a breath and he closed his eyes. He let Spectre do as he pleased, touching along his length, stroking it in ways which sent shivers down his spine. Ryoken watched eagerly. He gave another thrust, even with his rather limpening cock inside of Yusaku, and Yusaku took it wholly.

   He moaned, almost exaggeratedly, as the pressure, the pulsing, came to their due inside of him. He climaxed as he rode Ryoken and had Spectre kiss him, his hands receding from Yusaku’s crotch, now simply holding onto him and whispering sweet, encouraging nothings in his ear whilst Ryoken bore the brunt of his messy orgasm. His cum splattered across Ryoken’s body. It was hot and sticky and Ryoken happily bore it, grinning over it as Yusaku came.

   Yusaku panted and opened his eyes. He couldn’t help but notice – and be attracted to – the mix-matched white of his cum and Ryoken’s hair.

   “How was it?” Ryoken asked, cocky for someone in his position.

   “Good.” Yusaku replied, mouth dry.

   “That’s excellent to hear, dear.” Spectre added.

   Ryoken tugged on his restraints. “Can I be let down now? I’m kind of going numb, everywhere.”


	8. Punishment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Ship:** Revolver/Ryoken & Ryoken/All Lost Incident Victims (implied)  
>  **Tags:** Angst, BDSM, Blowjobs, Bondage, Chains, Deep Throating, Degrading Language, Dubious Consent, Flogging, Hate Sex, Selfcest, Unethical Dom, Wet Dreams, Whipping

   This was a dream, Ryoken thought. Knew. However, nightmare – as a term – was so much more apt. A combination of them both and something wet as well was, however, the most accurate, he thought as he tried to split himself off from it. Wake himself from it. Rouse himself from it rather than be aroused. Admittedly, of the ways in which his guilt manifests, this was a new one and he wanted off this ride but his eyes, they would not open and his body would not move. He was a prisoner to himself. Both in metaphor and in the most straightforward manner possible.

   Revolver was the one who was yanking his chains. His other self. The white knight crusading for the ideals of their Father. The person whom Ryoken was but could never truly be for the mask did not actually exist.

   A lascivious grin crossed Revolver’s face, beneath his mask. It was evil and all teeth. He relished the way in which Ryoken was forced to inch closer to him. Grovelling on the ground in a place not unlike their headquarters in the Link VRAINS but there was something just slightly off about the darkness and green; something Ryoken couldn’t quite put his finger on. Not that it mattered much presently given how his hands were splayed out on the ground as his knees ached.

   “Ryoken,” Revolver purred, “you are a dog and a coward.”

   _I know_ , Ryoken thought and he swallowed a hard lump in his throat. His wrists ached.

   “But you’re my dog, my coward.” Revolver continued to coo.

 _I know_ , Ryoken thought and Revolver yanked his chains.

   His gloved hand was so callously wrapped around the end of the chain-linked leash. Ryoken plodded towards Revolver like some hoofed animal, eventually coming as close as he could to his other self. Revolver looked down upon him with something like a caress in his hollow, yellow eyes. He licked his lips.

   “I promise to take very good care of you, Ryoken-sama,” Revolver told him, “after all, there is a very specific code of conduct that we, the Knights of Hanoi, have when it comes to traitors. And I, unlike you, shall adhere to it.”

   Ryoken inhaled sharply. That was, technically, true. But it didn’t apply to the inner sanctum: Spectre, Genome, Baira, Faust… Revolver. Was he Revolver? Ryoken mused briefly as he gazed upon Revolver’s face. He supposed not. He was Kogami Ryoken, the whelp who would never be the knight he aspired to be.

   “To honour this code of conduct,” Revolver began, “I shall list the crimes you are being charged with, but the Hell below knows that this is just the abridged list.”

   Ryoken’s stomach squirmed. Revolver, with his free hand, snapped his fingers and summoned himself a throne to sit upon. Ryoken remained at his feet though, but he lifted one leg and crossed it against the other. This left Ryoken placed in the middle of them, secured by the diagonal angle of his slim, white leg.

   “Beginning ten years ago, your first transgression against the Knights of Hanoi was allowing the Incident to grind to the halt as it had. I believe the colloquialism for this crime is “snitches get stitches, motherfucker”.” Revolver said.

   “They were children.” Ryoken sharply argued. “I – we – were children. And I regret it anyway, if that matters to you.”

   Revolver stared pointedly at Ryoken. Was he ever a child? Was he not a collection of data unable to age? Wasn’t he just a figment of his guilty subconscious? The indiscernible differences became poignant in the cold stare delivered upon the wake of such an interjection.

   “The second crime was incompletely destroying the Ignis five years ago.” Revolver continued.

   Ryoken could not object to that. He could have eradicated the Ignis in one, fell blow but he had allowed the Dark Ignis to get away and that put to motion too many events, too many wrongdoings. All of which could have been prevented or avoided completely had he been more competent. So, he would take this crime in a steady breath. His upper lip remained stiff though. The acceptance injected venom into his veins though no matter how sturdy he was in the reading of the crimes.

   “Your third crime was indulging Playmaker as long as you did. You should have defeated him.”

   “That’s as much your crime as it is in mine then.” Ryoken spat.

   Revolver shook his head. “I might be in control of you now, but normally it is you to steers this vessel, no matter how hasty the course.” He took a breath. “Your fourth crime is against Soulburner, you should have beat him down when you had the chance.”

   “Shut up.”

   “Your fifth crime is allowing Kusanagi Jin to live. You should have defeated the Light Ignis and let the child – nay, he is a child no longer, the adolescent – perish. His fate was cursed from the moment he entered the Incident, the one you so wrongfully disrupted, and was cursed the moment he created the root of all evil.”

   “Shut up.” Ryoken repeated through gritted teeth.

   “Your sixth crime remains on going. Your cruelty to Spectre is quite delicious. Lying to him for all these years, never informing him that he was never your favourite and that Playmaker was, denying him the one thing which would have completed his heart by telling him that the Ignis – all the Ignis, his Ignis – would have revolted against him.”

   “Shut up.” Ryoken snapped. “And hearing that is highly hypocritical of you to say.”

   “I’m not the one who committed the crimes. I care not for your hypocrisy, dog. These are your sins, not mine therefore it is not up to me to rationalise them, no matter how hypocritical.” Revolver coolly explained.

   Ryoken, meanwhile, was boiling over with disgrace and anger. He fumed. His body tensed and his fury seemed so feeble before the frigid gaze of Revolver.

   “For these six crimes – and many more left unspoken but known to us both – I must have you punished.” Revolver said.

   He uncrossed his legs and spread them apart. Ryoken was now neatly framed between them both. He grinned as he leaned over Ryoken. He yanked on his chains and Ryoken’s head bobbed. With his free hand, Revolver ran his fingers through Ryoken’s hair. A shiver was sent down his spine; a fleeting moment of pleasure before the nicety twisted. Became violent. Revolver’s fingers dug in and he pulled Ryoken closer.

   “Rather than say your Hail Marys and rather than simply leaving you in some jail to rot, you get to service me instead as your well-deserved punishment.” Revolver said. “Now, suck my cock, dog.”

   “Very well, sir.” Ryoken replied; defiance tinged his tone.

   Nonetheless, Revolver produced his dick for Ryoken. He uncouthly grabbed his crotch and he carved out a hole in the suit. His clothes turned to shards of shattered blue and white. His cock lifted through; thick, erect and pulsing. It was most certainly not the appendage that Ryoken had between his legs. He didn’t believe that was he faced was some manifestation of his own vanity; his own emasculation, perhaps, but not vanity or arrogance.

   “Stop staring and accept your punishment.” Revolver commanded of him.

   Ryoken huffed but ultimately obliged. He didn’t know why, but he did. Maybe it was because he wanted to be punished. Maybe it was because it was simply due to the fact that, as he was now, he was unable to awake. But, for whatever reason, Ryoken put his tongue to Revolver’s cock and slowly worked himself up to taking all of it.

   With an iron will, Ryoken forced himself to take as much as he could of Revolver’s length. He sealed his mouth around it and could feel his gag reflex react to his forceful arrogance. The taste of bile was real and almost searing so Ryoken came back up slightly from his initial deep throat. He swirled his tongue around Revolver as he did so. He heard – and felt – him laugh. A dark chortle which vibrated on his lips.

   “Pussy.” Revolver taunted him.

   _Whatever_ , Ryoken thought to himself as he continued to go down on Revolver. Though, in some semblance of rebellion, he tried again. This time, he was more successful in his endeavour, but it was marginal. Though, it was still enough to elicit some approval from Revolver. A sarcastic coo was slowly drawn out of his protected mouth, garbled by the hard glass, but it was a sign of arousal, nonetheless. It encouraged Ryoken as he tongued over Revolver’s slit.

   A good thing about the fact that this was a dream was that even though Ryoken was going through all these visceral motions, they were doing very little affect him beyond emotions. Even with Revolver’s cock in his mouth, even beginning to spill pre-cum at this point, Ryoken couldn’t taste a damn thing. And he didn’t want to imagine it either it as he drew back, both needing a breath and not requiring one at all. He panted. His tongue dripping with saliva and pre-cum and Revolver looed excellently chuffed over it.

   “Come on,” Revolver urged him, “make me cum from just your mouth alone, slut.”

   “Fine then.” Ryoken muttered after indulging in his pause and he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

   “And swallow it.” Revolver added in a threatening tone.

   He went down on Revolver again. Though, forced may be more apt regarding how he took Revolver’s cock into it. All but choking on it as he tried to fulfil his order. Revolver gave a lazy yank of Ryoken’s chains and he gagged hard as he was forced down further onto Ryoken’s length. He sputtered as his tongue manoeuvred around Revolver’s cock. Revolver purred and sighed, yanking on Ryoken’s chains again. Ryoken snorted and he tasted bile. But it pleased Revolver. He sank into his throne luxuriantly and gave a thrust of his hips. Ryoken swallowed and he continued all but choke on Revolver’s cock as he came.

   Ryoken swallowed again. Gagging. Viscerally disgusted as something almost warm swirled inside of him following those – imagined – motions. With revolted eyes, he threw a glare to Revolver who looked both grotesque and grand from this angle. Revolver looked down on him. A grin split across his disguised face. Ryoken took that as permission to draw back and he was not immediately punished for it.

   Ryoken took a breath. “Happy?” he asked.

   “Almost.” Revolver replied, a sultry tone.

   He uncrossed his legs and then jammed them together. He placed his hands delicately on his knees, the chain threading gently in the curl of his fingers against his knees, and he leaned in closer to Ryoken. They were nearly close enough to kiss now yet, he grew fuzzy rather than sharper in clarity.

   “You’ve pleased me.” he said. “But you have barely begun atoning for them.”

   Ryoken’s blood ran cold. He was certain that this was the moment when his nightmare was about to splinter from vaguely pleasurable to downright hellish. Them. Just that one word was enough to make him extraordinarily aware of the possibilities of how his subconscious could torture him now that he was tethered to it in dreams and chains.

   “Oh, don’t look so scared.” Revolver cooed. “There’s nothing like a little bit of flogging to get the heart racing.”

   Ryoken could have sighed but he withheld any indication of relief. Though, his heart did slow after quickening as it had. Maybe this was lucid dreaming, maybe the firing of the neurons in his overstimulated brain in their infinite randomness found some kindness in the entropy, or maybe it was something else entirely. However, of the terrible things he was envisioning, this was not one of them.

   “And don’t look so excited either, you slut, this is supposed to be punishment, remember?” Revolver said.

   He disgusted over an expression which Ryoken didn’t even know he was making, let alone know what it looked like. For certain anyway. For now, he had reason to believe that he was making some enamoured and pathetic look because he was too willing a martyr. And for the first time during this wet dream, he found himself aware of his own length which seemed to harden as his consciousness all but broke that barrier between dreams and reality but not yet.

   “Now, get off your knees.” Revolver instructed of him.

   Ryoken rose, unsteadily, to his feet. The chains around his neck clanged yet the noise did not ring in his ears nor hurt them. As he steadied, Ryoken felt as though his proportions were all wrong in this dream yet strangely the same. It was bizarre. Revolver then got to his own feet. And this time, Ryoken was given good reason to grapple with such strange notions. The Revolver before him ought to have been of his own height – eye level – and yet, he seemed, and perhaps was, much taller than him. His cape flounced about as he moved. In its wake, the throne disappeared from sight and from unreality.

   Revolver then circled around Ryoken like a predator. He examined Ryoken with a fierce eye. He made judgements that Ryoken would not even pretend that he could comprehend. Not when his whole imprisonment to him was a farce, anyway. Then, when satisfied with himself and Ryoken, Revolver brought him to his knees with a swift kick behind them.

   Ryoken buckled over. His head spilt forth and he watched as saliva – perhaps cum too – drip from his mouth. He felt sick. But he reeled back, he pulled himself back and Revolver preened behind him. And the way in which Ryoken experienced this dream shifted. Before, it had been through his own eyes. Now, he was viewing it like a third person interloper. He stood, some distance away from his selves and could see them both in relation to each other.

   It was strangely harrowing to see himself on his knees like that. It was even more harrowing to his old self keen over this. Revolver poised himself indulgently and with a snap of his fingers, he manifested a cat-o-nine-tails whip.

   “Bend over.” Revolver growled.

   Ryoken obeyed by whilst Revolver – and Ryoken – watched. Revolver toyed with the straps and Ryoken counted them. One, two, three, four, five… six. The pretty black leather curled and uncurled around Revolver’s slender fingers.

   “Six lashings.” Revolver stated. “Six lashings and we shall conclude this little session of your punishment thereafter.”

   “Six lashings, huh…?” Ryoken murmured to himself.

   He shifted in his sleep. He could feel the barrier between his states of consciousness wane. Revolver wasn’t lying. And it got Ryoken excited.

   Revolver loomed over him. The him on all fours like an animal robbed of humanity. Revolver strangled the leather of the whips one last time before taking a breath.

   “First. For the Origin of the Light Ignis.” Revolver began.

   His words were solemn yet the whipping which followed was anything but. The six-strips of leather sailed through the air and made a grand crack when they found a victim in Ryoken’s body. He tensed and he felt it – he honest to God felt it – upon him. Each individual stripe of leather against him. Not as powerful, yes, as if he had taken the lashing for real but Ryoken still registered it as real enough to hurt. To sting. He whimpered.

   “Second. For the Origin of the Earth Ignis.”

   Maybe it was because it was the second strike or maybe it was because it was on behalf of Spectre who could never raise a hand against him – even in jest, even in play – but this one hurt a lot. Ryoken’s body felt red and tender; beneath his clothes, beneath his consciousness, beneath his sheets. He cried out loudly, like the baby abandoned in the mountain woods. His voice was raw. Cracking; cracked. Revolver snickered. Ryoken’s voice had sounded utterly pathetic as he prepared himself, panting and heavy, for the next onslaught.

   “Third. For the Origin of the Wind Ignis.”

   This whipping was easily the loudest. Not just in comparison to the previous ones, but Ryoken was certain it would withstand in volume even against the ones that he was privileged not to have experience yet. Each strip of leather gave a bone-chilling crack and each one echoed in Ryoken’s head over and over and over. The noises hiding how his body should have sounded when it came into contact with said leather. He sucked in a breath and exhaled sharply. Still, his body ached. The feeling of leather on skin, even imagined, was enough to make him sick and sweaty. On his hands, Ryoken wobbled slightly and his visioned erred. He nearly woke up but for whatever reason, he did not.

   “Fourth. For the Origin of the Water Ignis.”

   Hot tears streamed down Ryoken’s cheeks upon this fourth lashing. He didn’t know if they were real or not, but the sensation seemed to register regardless. A scalding tingle down his cheeks and along his eyes. Somehow, they were the worst of it. Not the fact that Ryoken had taken six strips of leather at once at a blisteringly swift speed. He lurched forward because of it, his body remembering these new lashes as well the previous ones and still decided the brunt of it was the fact that he was crying. The lump in his throat and the fact there was still more to come.

   “Fifth. For the Origin of the Fire Ignis.”

   Revolver’s next lash seemed to be the quickest of them yet. He gave Ryoken even less time to recover as well. Before he could even raise his head again after the defeat bestowed upon him on Miyu’s behalf, Takeru’s revenge came through. And it came in hot. Aside from welting skin, it felt as though a burn was manifesting as well. All an imaginary torture, of course, or so Ryoken tried to tell himself as he stood these tests of guilt and punishment.

   “Sixth. For the Origin of the Dark Ignis.”

   Revolver panted. He felt bloody and bruised and battered for real. His whole body ached at this pain somewhere between real and imaginary. If there was a difference between such states at all. However, his soul and his heart ached worse than his body. The dehumanisation of those six people – precious to him regardless of his designs – broke him all over again. Yet, he took reluctantly strong heart when he remembered that Yusaku – that all of them – had experienced worse. Three things, he told himself and this memory of Yusaku. Three things to keep going – one, this wasn’t real; two, this was karmic; three, this was hotter than Ryoken wanted to admit.

   So, in his pain, he entrenched himself in their faces, their voices, the memories he had of them. He would let his other self… He wouldn’t let Revolver rob them once more of who they were and the connections that they had. They were more than just the sufferers who had created the Ignis. They were people who meant the world to him even though he despised not only the Ignis, as defanged as they were, but how they had become involved with each other to begin with.

   His agony seemed to bring great joy to Revolver. He played with his whip once more. His fingers entangling in those long, leather strips. He grinned to himself.

   “You look so pathetic. Had enough already?” he asked.

   Ryoken rebelliously paid him no mind.

   “Whatever.” Revolver’s voice was but a breath before it strengthened. “Seventh. For the one who started it all, for the one on the other side of the looking glass, for the Origin of Hanoi.”

   Ryoken’s heart pounded harder and faster in his chest. With magnificent poise, Revolver half-twisted back as he readied his most vicious lashing yet. Ryoken readied himself and it came as swift as a bullet to him. But, unlike his previous lashings, this one never landed. It awoke him.

   Ryoken, in his bed, bolted forth. He groaned and ejaculated as he did so. His head whirled around as dizziness ate away at his tiredness. He was awake. He was awake, he realised as his semen wet his pyjama trousers. He panted. Breathed hard. He searched for light in the darkness. It was still incredibly early in the morning, if it was the morning at all.

   Revolver’s voice – his voice – still echoed in the darkness. First, second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth and, as he looked over himself, seventh. His whole body still felt the sensations of the whipping and flogging. Now that he was awake, he was guiltily aroused but at peace with his dreams of self-flagellation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyway!! big thank you to A Caffeinated Crisis (TabbbyWright) for hosting /Ryoken!! It's been a blast to participate in so thank you so much for doing all the planning and groundwork for it! A big round of applause!


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